


A Rather Strange Sort of Happening

by SinclairMaxwell



Category: Harry Potter - Fandom, Twilight, various - Fandom
Genre: Abuse, Addiction, Drug Abuse, M/M, Non-Con references, Slash, m-preg
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-13
Updated: 2012-09-01
Packaged: 2017-11-07 15:03:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 31
Words: 73,477
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/432457
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SinclairMaxwell/pseuds/SinclairMaxwell
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>My various 100 Quills challenge one shots. Pairings are HarryXEdward and HarryXVoldemort mostly with a few odd ones thrown in like HarryXRiddick. A fae seer runs, a character writes, a wizard cries, a junkie gets his fix, a Savior lies in wait, and a vampire visits a night club. SLASH! You have been warned.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Polish

A/N: Okay, so these are a few of the short stories I wrote for the 100 Quills challenge on Live Journal. They aren't from teh same stories so you can read them independantly, but it just seemed easier to post them all together. Some are purely HarryXVoldemort and some are HPXTwilight universe. I hope you enjoy them all!

Prompt 005-Polish

Warning: Slash

Disclaimer: I own nothing. 

Lord Voldemort walked into his bedroom after his last Ministry Meeting of the day. He had been ruling the Wizarding World for six months now. The Order had all been eliminated, Dumbledore was dead, and he had his greatest trophy of all. At the thought he smirked and turn to the wall beside his bed. On the wall was painted, in the blood of his enemies, a mass of parsletongue in the shape of the door. It was one of his closely guarded secrets.

"Conceal the treasure within." He hissed in the snake language only he and one other understood.

The markings on the wall began to shift, first on the inside and working there way outward, taking the wall with it. It formed a stone archway and a staircase to a section of the castle that spatially should not exist. It was created by his magic alone and only he could access it. It was a vault. Some would say it was a tomb but the dead did not dwell here. Only souls and his treasure. The single treasure that he had taken as a trophy of his conquest. Every now and then he liked to take it out and polish it. Admire it. He took the stairs, the entrance closing after him.

Blue sconces flared to life as he traversed the stairs. A second door required another phrase. Something different to throw off anyone on the off chance that they got through the first entrance. He walked down the second shorter staircase and it leveled off quickly. At the bottom was a stone round room that was buzzing with magic. Around the room was a small niche, seven total, where each of his Horcruxes rested. Nagini was in a magically induced coma in one of the niches nearby. In the center of the room, a bright blue beam shone down on a glass coffin on a raised dias. He stepped over to it, running a fond possessive hand over the lid. Looking down into the glass box, he gazed at his most precious possession.

Harry Potter lay in a magically induced sleep, just like Nagini. He had been this way for a year today. Voldemort planned to take him out of the box once his reign was complete and take him as his Consort, willingly or unwillingly. Harry would of course be confused. He would be waking to a world vastly different from the one he fell asleep in. He would, naturally, never leave Voldemort's side or the safety of his room. That was to be expected. He didn't share, period, and he would feel jealous with too many people ogling his prized possession. Of course he would have Harry make a few public appearances with him to solidify the uselessness of defying the new regime. Other than that he would be under every protection possible.

Yes. He had big plans for the child, and a child he was. Harry, since being put in the coma, a specialized parsletongue ritual created by Slytherin himself, had remained his youthful, beautiful fifteen year old self. His hair had grown, now undoubtedly down to his knees. He was like a special doll that one only took out of the case on special occasions to admire and then to be put back under wraps. Voldemort, however, would be enjoying him for eternity. He had created a Horcrux for Harry while the boy slept. It was a simple thing but something that meant a great deal to the boy. A photo album. In it were pictures of his parents as well as a recent picture of Harry himself that acted much like the Tom Riddle diary had. It had awareness. It lay at Harry's side inside the unbreakable box, closed and silent.

He had dressed Harry in loose, flowing white robes that only increased his appearance of that similar to an angel. His chest rose and fell just the slightest bit, evenly and soft. The Dark Lord burned with hunger to see those emeralds open and gaze on him. Whether it be fear, anger or quiet indifference he didn't care, because eventually they would contain pleasure and need as well. He imagined that there would be naivety in those eyes and confusion as he pressed his Consort into the mattress. He imagined that Harry wouldn't understand what was happening until it was and the understanding that would dawn in those ethereal orbs. He shivered in excited eagerness. He would wait for that day. After all, he had waited years for it already. Ever since, he would slip into number four Private Drive as a spirit and watch the boy as he slept and as his relatives abused him.

He would erase every hurt from little Harry's mind and fill his memories with knowledge that he had been his, he had belonged to him since infancy. Just the thought of the fey-like creature that was soon to be draped over his arm, and his bed, was enough for him to call on Bellatrix for a bit of quick entertainment. Harry wouldn't be like her though. He would be untainted, clean and pure when he became his. He sighed and ran a hand over the glass, feeling an answering pulse of Harry's own magic. Even now it recognized him. He needed to get back and rule the world with an iron fist as per the plan. Every time he came down and spent a moment with his pet, it seemed harder and harder to walk away. Harry had grown into a beautiful creature and while he was patient, his patience was not eternal. Soon though. Soon he wouldn't have to leave at all. Soon Harry would come with him and never leave his side. The thought alone was enough to make him moan. Harry would be so powerful when he emerged. A caterpillar in a chrysalis to emerge as a lovely butterfly. Yes. He was delicate and beautiful, just like a butterfly. He would just have to clip his wing tips so he couldn't fly away.


	2. Addiction

A/N: Okay, REALLY slashy in this chapter! Younger viewers beware! Feel free to skip this chapter if you do not wish to read it!

Prompt 001-Addiction

Warning: Slash and drug use!

Disclaimer: I own nothing. 

Harry purred, leaning back on the bed in pure ecstasy as the man hovering above him pushed the needle into his arm. So good…Evermore. His drug of choice. It left him breathless with the sensations coursing through his veins, his limbs twitching with it. It was better than any sweet, more pleasurable than any sex ever could be, more mind blowing than jumping off of a tall height, free falling and not knowing or caring about the landing. He writhed against the sheets as the faceless figure above him shuddered. He was just a whore at this point, doing whatever it took for the Ever that kept his weary body going. He was buying his drug on his own steam though. He had been sickened at the thought of using his parent's legacy to pay for it. He knew that if they could see him now, they would not be proud. He felt the nameless man's hand- did he know him? Those black eyes seemed so familiar- slide over his skin, sliding lower along his abdomen before it stopped. His eyes cleared enough to see a pale hand gripping the man's hand tight enough that he knew it hurt before someone hissed venomously. The sound made the sensation of snakes sliding over his skin, forcing him to writhe in bliss.

"Leave!" The voice ordered and the body that had been laying beside his own disappeared as quickly as it had come, a shadow in the fog of faceless, nameless forms that filled his mind.

~ o ~

Lord Voldemort looked down at the debauched beauty laying before him and felt instantaneous lust rise in him at the sight. He had never believed in right and wrong, justice and evil, good and bad. He only did what it took to acquire his aims. But what he was about to do was very very bad. He observed the obviously influenced Boy-Who-Lived, tasting the irony like a fine wine. Their Savior fallen so low, a euphorically, sinfully beautiful fallen angel splayed at his feet, waiting for him to possess him. Harry Potter wanted to be consumed just as surely as he consumed the drug now flowing through his veins and lighting his soul aflame. Just as surely as the empty syringe that lay at his side. Voldemort sent out a pulse of his aura, a caress of darkness that had Harry arching off of the bed like a cheap brothel whore. The boy's aura answered back almost violently, seeking the Dark Lord out aggressively. It was interesting really. The boy who was so hailed by their world hid himself in the depths of under ground society, dosing up on a drug created by incubi to escape the world that had held him on their shoulders, never bothering to catch him when he fell. Harry Potter, reduced to a junkie in the depths of Knockturn Alley, debauched and used in order to forget. He reached a hand out to hover just over the feverish skin, never touching but allowing the aura to mesh with his own. It tore a gasping moan from the teen's throat. So delectable. Pure temptation, begging at his feet. Suddenly, Harry had laced his fingers in his own and was basking in his aura, his eyes rolling back in his head at the pure ecstasy of the sensation.

"I…know you. I know your magic." He whispered but seemed uncertain.

Voldemort was slightly surprised. Harry Potter, it seemed, had indeed left everything behind, up to forgetting everything he had wished to erase. His smirk widened and he leaned down, breathing along the teen's lips. Harry licked his lips, his breath hitching.

"You do. And you'll know me even better very soon." He hissed in parsletongue.

The sensual language seemed to spur his lust higher and Harry fell back to the bed when his arms jerked with the sensation. He followed the tongue's path, licking the lips lightly. He liked the taste. It was fresh, like rain, full of quiet desperation and need. Harry Potter belonged to him. Period. And from now on, no one else would touch him. He let his eyes devour the pale thin body below him and he straddled the lithe waist, ready to claim the teen for his own.

~ o ~

Harry woke in a daze, a sigh on his lips. The Ever had successfully been metabolized from his blood stream and left him wanting for more. He frowned when he opened his tired eyes, realizing that he was not in his grimy Knockturn Alley apartment. He was in a lavishly decorated bedroom, the curtains drawn almost completely, leaving a sliver of dying sunlight to spill across the floor. He had been stripped to his extremely baggy black pants that hung low on his hips. He was about to walk to the door when a chuckle alerted him to a second occupant of the room.

"Harry, Harry. How you have fallen."

Just as he spun around, fighting dizziness, he saw a tall dark man step from the shadows. He was pale but sinfully handsome with crimson eyes and aristocratic features. It was the eyes that made him seem familiar through the haze that Ever had made of his memories. It was the reason he had chosen to take it after all. That and the immense dark aura that seemed to reach out to wrap around him. He shivered at the feeling. It sent pleasure racing down his spine. A dirty addiction.

"I can give you want you want, Harry."

The man seemed to get a thrill out of saying his name. Harry had the urge, like a primal instinct, to be closer to this man, like he held a crucial piece of him in the palm of his hand.

"And what is it that I want?" He asked lightly, staring at the slowly approaching figure.

"To be owned. Completely and utterly. To have someone else make the decisions for you, to hand over the choices that your afraid to face to someone else."

Harry could have moaned at the truth of the words spoken and the soft, cool touch on his neck.

"Is that what you want, Harry? Do you want me to own you? To possess you? To never let you out of my sight again?"

Oh did he. And Voldemort in turn wanted to own that sweet soul, that delicious body, the unconditional loyalty and ownership of the Boy-Who-Lived-To-Fall.

"Yeeessssss…"Came the strangled parsletongue whisper.

Voldemort smirked and ran the tip of a syringe down the teen's cheek, watching the emerald pools darken in need. The silver Ever shone in the container temptingly.

"From now on, only I will be sticking anything in your body. Not you, not any other man or woman. Me alone. Understood, my serpent?"

Harry could only nod, his temperature and breath spiking at the pure need that burned through him at the sight of the silver addiction that was so close to him but so far away. With his strangled plea, Voldemort lifted his arm, gripping the top in a vice so the vein stuck out obscenely. The moment the Dark Lord slipped the needle into his vein, they both fell into bliss. Harry at the sensation of the Ever being injected into his blood stream, and Voldemort at the power and the control that the teen had delivered to him. Control willingly given.


	3. White

A/N: Okie dokie! So I've decided to post all of the VoldieXHarry oneshots together that I have so far and all of the Edarry ones together, so those of you who are waiting for EdwardXHarry, it'll only be a few more chapters!

Disclaimer: Nope!

Prompt 003- White

"Give me the Key!"

"I will not." King Nehalem declared, his now wizened face, ever changing with the seasons, was determined and strong before the Dark Lord's wrath.

The King of Ages said without saying that he was not to be revealed, so he stood, his hood up, in the midst of his envoy. His handmaidens shook in their flowing cloaks, their veils keeping them protected from the sights of the invading Death Eaters. He was shaking too, not for fear for himself, but fear for his king. He was not to be revealed. He was not to be compromised. But…Eolith had his twin scimitars free already and seemed to be fighting the urge to look over and make sure he was well. Lord Voldemort hissed furiously and trained his wand on the Sidhe King.

"Then you will die." His eyes widened in horror, " Avada-"

"NO!" He cried and pitched himself forward, holding fast to the man's arm, preventing the curses completion.

Lord Voldemort looked down on him with a surprised sneer before tossing him away. It wasn't until he was so adamantly dismissed that Voldemort saw the glowing green eyes beneath the layers of Seer's clothing. The instant his eyes widened in realization, Eolith was between them, spinning his swords threateningly. He could feel his body quivering in fear. Nehalem looked sad.

"Run Ayden! Now!" The prince yelled.

He needed no other instruction. Ayden ran from the Fey Court that had forever been his home. The leaves of fall were raining down around him, decorating the sun filled wood with a bright array of color and magnificence. He ran through those shining, dazzling woods, hoping against hope that he could make it into Sluagh territory. Christian would hide and protect him. The denizens of the Night Court were a friend to him. It seemed that both heads of Court had taken it into their personal interest to raise and protect him. They had even gone as far as to team up occasionally for his benefit. His Seers clothes, though being volumous were light and did not hinder his progress any. He was swift and silent and Ayden whispered a thanks to the trees and the earth below for keeping his steps silent as air. He received a soft hum in return. The wind blew the trees above, ushering him on with an urgency that made his heart beat harder. The earth was urging him to run. Ayden briefly considered shedding some of his outer clothing but dismissed the idea quickly. He never removed his garb in public. Ayden wore a chain of amethyst across his forehead, the largest stone resting in the center of the Great Eye tattooed on his skin. His veil, a simple cloth that draped over the bottom half of his face was white, matching the rest of his garb. White was never worn in the courts except by those considered pure and sacred. Seers, who were held even higher than the king. A Seers envoy had to be pure as well. Virgins with high concentrations of magic or ability, usually female because of their susceptibility to magics of all kinds. The bottom layer of his robes was wrapped around his waist with a sash and the top layer fell around him like a cloak, floor length but spider web spun so it flowed like air. The seal of the royal family held it all together on his waist, the gold surprisingly light but shining in the sun. Ayden was revered, even the King standing when he entered the room. He was pure, untouched by man or woman. He was the Key and was under the especial protection of the Kings of both Courts and the Sluagh.

With a soft gasp, he heard heavy footsteps behind him and the wind rushed through the glade before quieting, falling eerily silent. Voldemort had come for him at last. Had he hurt Eolith? What of the Everlasting King? Ayden ducked behind a wide white tree that swelled a little to help hide him. This tree was FuliQlkkawen, the Mother Tree. It was said that Seers, because of their close ties to the earth, were descendants of the Mother Tree. That's why all Seer's names ended in the suffix 'awen'. His full name was Aidenawen. The term in the ancient tongue meant 'Love of the Mother'. He held his breath for silence but knew it was fruitless. He would not make it to Sluagh Territory. He couldn't run. He sighed and, pulling down his mask, stepped into sight. Voldemort stopped about two yards from him. The two observed each other for some moments. Lord Voldemort had all of the dark seductive charm of an Incubus. His appearance was handsome but Ayden knew better than to trust him. He was a stranger from the strange wizarding land and had tried to kill the king. He knew all about the wizards and their Dark Lord. He knew of his destiny.

"Why are you seeking me out?" He asked softly but no less solidly.

The man's mouth quirked in a smirk. He was pleased with himself. Or pleased with him?

"I've come for you, of course. I've been searching for you all your life and waiting much longer than that." Came the cultured reply.

He took a step forward and Ayden consequently took a step back. The Dark Lord frowned. He wasn't going to make it easy for him. As a sign of good will, Voldemort put his wand away and held up his hands peacefully.

"Because I am your Key."

"Among other things."

"The Key to what?"

Voldemort's eyes did not change but he stared at him and somehow became…different. It was a transformation that Ayden neither understood nor could exactly say what had transpired.

"Everything." The man whispered and switched to the snake language effortlessly, "{Past, present, future…and forever.}"

Ayden allowed his slow approach tentatively. He knew he should continue his useless escape but something in the man called to him, tugging something inside him. It was as if a part of him awakened that he had never before been aware of. His curiosity was never ceasing as well. He shook his head. He had been raised knowing what his destiny was. The King had made sure that he wouldn't be thrust blind into the wizard's world one day, unable to get his footing because of ignorance. Just as Eolith had been taught to protect him. The prince had taken the duty as his greatest purpose in life, even being the future king was second to it. Voldemort wrapped a gentle arm around his waist, pulling him close as if afraid he would break and blow away with the next breeze.

"You say that I your Key, among other things. What are those other things?" He asked, startled at suddenly finding himself so close to the man.

Voldemort quirked another cocky grin but his crimson eyes did not reflect his expression. Instead, they were deep, drowning and full of eagerness and need. The Dark Lord leaned him back as if they were in a dance. He began to follow and Ayden felt a moment of panic. He was gong to kiss him! He halted his progress millimeters from Ayden's lips.

"You were destined for me. All the powers of the world could not keep you from me now." He whispered and before he could close that distance, the ringing of two silver blades was heard.

"Stop!" Eolith yelled, appearing behind the Dark Lord.

His beloved honey colored eyes widened at the sight and Ayden shot him a desperate but relieved look.

"Eolith!"

His friend, and long time admirer, gave him a nod.

"Easy, Ayden. I am well. Has he hurt you?" The prince asked despite Voldemort's hiss of anger at the inquiry.

"No."

The Dark Lord growled at the interruption. Eolith spun his blades, answering the man's challenge. He released Ayden gently and turned to his opponent.

"I had decided to spare you for the sake of my little one, but you leave me with no choice but to kill you."

Ayden nearly cried out in horror. They couldn't fight! Eolith would die! He ran to the prince, burying himself into his chest. He looked up at his childhood companion beseechingly.

"~Please, Eolith, don't do this. He will kill you! Please!~" He begged tearfully in the ancient tongue, not seeing the Dark Lord's eyes narrow at the close relationship the two were displaying.

Eolith's eyes missed nothing though. His father had warned him of what the Dark Lord wanted of his Dear One. He wanted him for his immortality, yes and for Ayden's Seers ability, but the Dark Lord also wanted him for his bed as well. Ayden was the Key. He was the only one who could be a lover and Consort to Voldemort and his decisions would change the world, either for the good or the worst. He sometimes wondered how much of this Ayden had already foreseen. Eolith knew it was his destiny but he couldn't help but let his heart ache for the love he could never express to the small Seer in his arms. Ayden turned to the Dark Lord with desperation in his eyes.

"Please. Spare them. Kill no one and I will go with you. Spare my people and you shall have what you desire." He said strongly.

"Ayden, no…"

Voldemort beckoned him with an outstretched hand. Ayden shot Eolith an apologetic, longing look before taking the Dark Lord's hand. He would accept his destiny.

"Very well, little one."

"My name is Ayden…"

Voldemort's mouth quirked upwards at the statement.

"Very well…Ayden."

~ o ~

Eolith stumbled disbelievingly back into his Father's court, his stomach wrenching uncomfortably at his failure. The black robed invaders had all gone and the court was silent, the Everlasting King standing before his throne. All eyes were on him as he approached, waiting with baited breathes on whether Ayden had made it to the safety of Sluagh Territory. He resheathed his dual swords.

"Ayden left with him. In exchange for the safety of the Court."

For his safety…He knew his father was watching him as murmurs and cries of outrage and mourning erupted through out the hall but he was surprised when he felt that gnarled hand land on his shoulder. His Father's eyes were soft and kind.

"Do not blame yourself, Eolith. Ayden would not wish it so. You have not failed in your duties. Their Dark Lord will return Ayden, rest assured."

Eolith stared at him in wonder but nodded. He could only assume that Ayden had foreseen his departure and return but did not foresee the events leading to it. As the small Seer had often told him, he saw what was certain, but the choices of those involved changed like the winds. Ayden would return and when he did, he would be waiting.

~ o ~

Ayden gasped in surprise when the Dark Lord released him and he was suddenly so far from home that he couldn't even feel the ebb and pulse of his home forest any more. He felt the heartbeat of a strange forest instead. It hammered his decision home quick and true. He was in a strange land with a strange man and his strange forest. The staccato sound of many cracks at once scared him out of his skin and he found that his fear had made him jump back into the pretended safety of Voldemort's arms. The man chuckled lightly.

"Easy, Ayden. It's alright."

The once empty room was now filled with the man's followers. The horde had arrived. Self consciously, Ayden pulled his mask up once more to cover his face, much to Voldemort's amusement. Awww. His little one was shy, was he? The Death Eaters watched him with dark amusement and their Lord dismissed all but a few of them. The distance away from everything he had ever known was dizzying, frightening. There was a dark man that approached him with a sneer and a blond man with a cane. Voldemort drew him close, leaning down to speak in his ear.

"This is my potions master, Severus, and my right hand, Lucius." Lucius bowed elegantly while Severus's irritation seemed to deepen further, "Gentlemen, this is Ayden, Seer of the Fae Courts, and the missing Boy Who Lived."

Ayden nodded at them but shuddered, feeling weak and exposed without the protection of his native forest and the earth there in the Light Court. The Dark Lord frowned and led him away to where he presumed that he would stay. Once they were alone, he turned to the man. His eyes were guarded and he was treading carefully. It would not do to enrage the man who held his fate at present.

"What is it exactly that you expect of me? Why do you want me so badly? Is it because I am this…Boy Who Lived of yours? Or because I am your Key?"

Voldemort's crimson gaze found his own and the heat he witnessed there previously returned. Ayden's eyes flashed as his Seer fed him the information. He gasped, his cheeks turning red.

"You…desire me." He whispered, embarrassed understanding filling him.

"You have no idea."

"Well I do have some idea…" Voldemort spoke as if he hadn't heard Ayden's complete ignorance of his sarcasm.

"You are my Key. You were destined to be mine." The man hissed, making the blush darken.

Ayden glowered and jerked away from him, anger rising in his embarrassment.

"I am a friend of Fate, Lord Voldemort. I have seen it for myself. I belong to no man. I may have agreed to come to this backwards place to save my people and my king, but that does not mean that I submit to you. I am untouched and pure and I shall remain so." He ground out in his own defense.

Voldemort smirked and his was an expression that clearly said 'We shall see'.


	4. Writing

A/N: Ooooo, another HarryXVoldie but this time, our little Harry turns out to be more than he seems. The truth behind Harry Potter! As always, younger viewers, heed the warnings just below this note.

Prompt 035-Writing  
Warning: Very Slashy!  
Disclaimer: I own nothing. This is merely a creative blip I had.

Harry was sitting in his desk at his new residence, typing away furiously. His reading glasses were on, and his hair jerked back into a quick messy bun. Strands were escaping everywhere from where he had run his hands through it repeatedly. Coffee mugs and various Starbucks cups were scattered over his desk, a few having fallen carelessly to the floor. Such was Harry Potter on a deadline date. He wrote under the alias J. K. Rowling, something he came up with because of the people in his life that he had left behind or had been taken from him. J for James, his father who was so much like him and so different all at once. Kathleen, for his mother's middle name, a beautiful woman who had given her life so could live on. R for Remus, the man who had taught him so much. And the rest of his chosen last name, a play on Padfoot's favorite thing to do: howling at the moon with Moony. He had mixed the two in tribute of the lovers that had been torn from each other by fate. He had not left his desk since Thursday. It was now Saturday. He had to get the last pages of the Chamber of Secrets complete and to his editor by midnight on Monday. Damned pushy bastards. It would be the second installation in the life and times of young Harry Potter, he thought with a wicked smirk. If only they knew what had really happened. He heard his door open but his fingers did not still on the keyboard, still furiously typing away. His hands would be twitching for days after he was done.

"Still working, pet?"

He didn't answer. It was a rhetorical question after all. Two brand new cups of Starbucks were set next to him and he grinned like a only an addict with his fix could. Mmmm…Venti fat free, sugar free peppermint white chocolate mocha with extra vanilla.

"You really are amazing!" He moaned in bliss at just the smell that was wafting up from the cups.

"Of course I am. Now don't forget to put how devilishly handsome I am and how delicious little Tom is in bed. Or rather, on the Chamber floor." His lover purred in his ear.

Harry laughed and took a short moment to reach back and pull the man down for a heated, thankful kiss. Poor Voldemort. He was so sex deprived during a deadline.

"I could never forget to write about the fearsome Lord Voldemort, but, love, these are meant to be children's books. I gotta tone down all of the random, dirty premarital sex a bit." He told his beloved of four years.

The Dark Lord sighed dramatically.

"Fine. Just a bit then. Can you take a break? You're looking neglected, pet, and I'm suffering from withdrawal. From you." The man said, coming around to the front of the desk so he could see his lover.

Harry had hair that reached his midback and was wearing a pair of muggle sweatpants and a knee length long Disney World jersey featuring a cantankerous looking little dwarf. His hair was becoming less than fresh looking and he had obviously not slept in days. Voldemort was used to seeing him in this state but was unaffected. Harry was a writer who took his deadlines very very seriously. He had several aliases that he wrote under, Rowling, his main alias, but only one. He currently had three separate series he was working on and three different publishers. He knew what he loved to do and he did it. It was a solitary existence though. Whenever "Mrs. Rowling" was required to do a book signing, photo shoot or interview, he had his friend Luna go in his stead, acting out her part as the world famous author. He of course, delegated a percentage of his sales to her for her part even though the girl had blushed and hummed embarrassed at the sum. He looked grimy and tired but regardless of that fact, Voldemort still found him beautiful. Stunning even. And all his.

"You know I can't, Tom. I have to finish Chamber by Monday. Christopher can be merciless on those things." 

Harry only called him Tom when he was extremely aroused or the subject of conversation was one he would not budge on.

"Only because he knows you work better on a deadline. Couldn't you take a break though? Just for an hour?"

Harry rolled his eyes at the slight whine. If he mentioned it, Voldemort would promptly shoot back that Dark Lord's didn't whine. As if. He didn't even answer the prompt, only went back to typing about little Harry and his friend Ron sliding down the pipe to almost certain doom in the dreaded Chamber of Secrets. He wondered what his readers would say if they knew that their favorite character was secretly banging the villain of his story. He often delighted himself in reading the fan fiction posted for his series. His favorite pairing was -you guessed it- he and the Dark Lord now wrapping his arms around him from behind and breathing temptingly along his ear. A hand was slipping down his torso slowly, heading quickly towards his pants.

"Just a little break…" The man whispered against the shell of his ear.

Harry felt himself getting hard. That bastard knew that just behind his ears was his weak spot! Just as the thought came unbidden to his mind, a hot tongue flicked over that sensitive spot. His hands stuttered on the keys. He reached over to cover the hesitation with a large gulp of the hot coffee at his side. Voldemort could take him to the floor on Monday after he was finished damnit! He had work to do! That was what he thought until he was lifted bodily from his chair before being placed right back, except this time, he was on a warm lap instead of his cushy computer chair. He could feel something hard beneath him and bit his lip, trying to avoid the groan that wanted to come out into the open. He continued to type even when they were both suddenly missing pants. His breath shook when Voldemort caressed the insides of his thighs but he stayed strong. He did not stop writing. It wasn't until after his beloved's hand had started to move on him when he realized that he had stopped and was only typing the words in his head. The past three lines were nothing but 'more, harder, squeeze'. He swore. He would get nothing down until he got rid of Tom. He jerked his glasses off of his face and with a feral grin, took the Dark Lord to the floor. The Boy-Who-Lived indeed.


	5. Fly

A/N: Another cute one! It may take you all a moment to catch on but I'm sure that when you do you'll have one of those "Ah Ha!" moments. Love!

Disclaimer: Nope

Prompt 035- Fly

Ley sat on one of the enormous hillocks, letting the feather light touch of the grass blow against his face. The warm wind was unusually crisp and cool, a sure sign of oncoming rain. Mere was no where to be found. She was at the fairy mound today with her mother. The sun beat down in a last feeble attempt to warm the shore before the dark clouds overtook it. From his comfortable spot on the hill, Ley could see the Jolly Roger resting in the lagoon below. He frowned. What was the Captain doing with the mermaids? Maybe they just wanted to port before the storm. Maybe. He shrugged it off. He didn't want to fight right now. His heart wasn't in it. Ley's lip quivered and the first drizzle of rain began to fall. He didn't need him! He just wanted to always be a boy and to fly and fight forever! He didn't need his kiss…

"Ley…," Voldemort's voice called from behind him.

Ley spun around. The Dark Lord was standing not five feet from him, staring at him sadly.

"Come back to the house. You're getting soaked and Ren and Goose made a big dinner."

His Leaving Feast…Ley had to fight to keep his eyes on the man in front of him. He was glad that the rain his the tears in his eyes.

"No. I don't want to go back right now." He said softly.

Voldemort took a few steps forward but Ley flitted up off of the ground away from him. They stared each other down silently and the rain increased steadily around them. The boy bit his lip. He did not want Voldemort to leave. He would miss him too much. He would miss how they would go down to the lagoon during the day and watch the mermaids splash around and how they would weave flowers and bird feathers into eachother's hair even though they always fell out of Voldemort's. He did not want him to go but he would not watch it either.

"I'm sorry that I have to go. I've just worked so hard to get where I am today, Ley. I can't just throw away nearly fifty years of work to come play games with you. I'm so close to my goal. All I have to do is kill off the old man and it's all mine. I'm just one attack away. Two at the most." Voldemort confessed, desperately trying to get him to understand.

"Then go home! Just go home and forget all about us!," Forget all about him, " You're just like all the others! You don't care about us at all!" He yelled back, only vaguely aware that he could not hide his tears any longer, nor the look of raw despair on his face.

He flew away from the Dark Lord and all of his feelings towards the lagoon, hoping to find the one person who would never change.

Tom had sent his pirates either down below or to the mainland. His talks with the few mermaids that weren't absolutely devoted to Ley had gone well. He would have a few spys on his creator at the very least. The rain hit the deck of his ship with soft caresses. Rain? Unusual. He couldn't remember the last time that it had rained in Neverland. When the brat, Paxton, Ley's previous partner in crime, had gone back to the human world. He was about to turn back and go inside when something curious caught his eye. On the branch of the big tree, coming dangerously close to the starboard side of his ship, a small figure lay. Ley's hair fell limply around him and tear tracks were evident on his face. Those emerald eyes were so expressive in their pain that Tom couldn't even manage to make a single perverted innuendo. He walked over to the distraught child with a soft smile.

"Did you get caught in the rain, lovely? Why aren't you in your hide out?"

Why aren't you with him?

"Kind of." Ley shrugged but the Captain could see through his failed attempt at nonchalance.

The cherry colored bottom lip quivered and Tom realized that there may actually be something really wrong. Ley had fought pirates, played rough with the Indians, swam and hunted with the mermaids and gallivanted all over Neverland with the fairies and only once had he seen him cry.

"He won't stay with me…He'd rather go back and grow up than stay here with me." He sobbed.

Tom winced in pity. So that was it. A broken heart. He reached out his arms gently over the side of the ship, beckoning the child in.

"Slide down.. I'll catch you. You need to come in and get warm."

Let sniffled, looking at him suspiciously.

" No jokes? No perverted comments?"

"No comments or jokes. Just let me take care of you for a little while."

Ley sighed with another small sob and slid down painfully. He couldn't fly when he was so miserable. He had no happy thoughts right now. He slipped into the open arms, letting himself be pulled on deck. He snuggled into the chest he was curled against calmly. Tom smiled and carried the small boy to his cabin. By the time they arrived, Ley was shaking so they settled next to the fire on the floor, just warming up together. Tom decided he rather liked this calm sweet feeling. It was pleasant. More heady than any drink, and sweeter than spring flowers. He leaned down next to the quivering figure's ear.

"Tell me what happened."

Ley curled around him tighter.

"He's leaving. Just like they all do. Hermione wants to go with him and Ron is going home. Eventually they'll all leave and I'll be alone. He gave me his Kiss but he won't stay with me." He whispered, a silent tear trailing down his pale face.

Tom's arms wrapped even more protectively around him but anger and jealousy battled inside him. Voldemort had kissed him? How dare he! He brushed Ley's tear away gently and delivered his own kiss to the boy's cheek. Ley looked up at him in tearful surprise. Desperation for any sort of solidarity danced behind those emerald eyes. Tom realized that Ley had come to the Lagoon looking for him. The knowledge pleased him, sending bliss through his soul. He wanted his company because Tom was the one person that would never leave him. He touched the soft cheek below his own, keeping the green eyes held with his own hazel. Did he dare it? Did he dare to try and risk spooking him? Was it worth it? Oh yes. Ley's eyes widened when his mouth connected with those soft pink lips. Tom ran his hand through that soft black hair and expected the teen to jerk away. He didn't expect Ley's hand to touch his neck softly, encouraging him. The kiss, the touch, the feel of his small form against his own, it was everything he had thought it would be and more. He deepened their timid embrace just enough to not scare Ley. The boy made a soft noise and Tom felt his pulse speed excitedly. He needed to tread very carefully. At least until his creator was gone. If he pushed too much, too quickly, Ley would bolt. If he waited, Voldemort's abandonment would push the child into his arms for good. Ley's arms wound around his neck as Tom stood, still holding him. The boy had no more weight to him than a kitten. His body thrummed like a tuning fork and it took all of his will not to ravish him then and there. Instead, he settled for laying him on his bed and kissing him once more. Those lips tasted like rain and sunshine. Like joy. Almost flowery. They tasted wild and untamed. Tom doubted that his lover would ever be caged by love or otherwise. It was what drew both he and Voldemort to him. His breath came out in a shudder and Tom stood up. Ley was out of breath and wide eyed beneath him. His soft lips looked well kissed. He needed to back off before all of his self control was lost. He tucked teh boy in with shaking hands. Seeing Ley in his bed only increased his blood flow and he knew that he would be taking a long dip in the ocean outside to cool off. Tom kissed Ley's forehead once, stroking the wet long hair.

"Rest, lovely. You will be safe here." He whispered and blew out the candle on the bedside table.

Ley snuggled further into the covers until the comforter covered his frail shoulders. His beloved emerald eyes closed for sleep. Tom's heart sped and he could feel Voldemort's resigned emotions through their link. He was leaving and Ley would not be there to see him off. His eyes narrowed as he closed his bedroom door. At first light in the morning, his creator would be gone. The Dark Lord must have realized by now that Ley had not gone back to the hangman's tree and assumed that Ley was still angry with him. Angry enough that he never wanted to see him again. That was very well. It wouldn't do for Ley to decide that he would rather have the original once more. Tom had grown stronger with the renewed contact with the third of his soul. If Ley, Voldemort and he actually put aside this drama and got together…their power would be nigh unbeatable. Nearly limitless. However, if he had it his way, his creator would leave Neverland and Ley to him and realize that he couldn't have his world domination and the small pixie boy. He had to choose and Voldemort had made his choice. Tom was just coming behind to pick up the pieces of Ley's wounded heart that now lay so vulnerable in his bed. His creator could go back to the Wizarding World and be damned for all he cared. He still hadn't forgiven him for locking him in that trice damned diary. Ley's own presence was what had drawn him out of it and to Neverland. The strange island that he had found was so inherently magical that he actually had solid form here. He had his own magic of course, but it was the small world that had gifted him his body back. He headed back up to the deck silently only after he'd aimed a wandless locking and protection charm at the door. It wouldn't do to have one of his men stumble inside and find Ley there. He stood on the deck and watched teh sun rise with a triumphant smirk on his handsome features.

~ o ~

Ley opened his eyes the next morning to find the sun shining on him from the window. He felt that warmth and knew that Tom was gone. He fingered the small stone on the necklace around his neck and he knew that the rain was starting to fall once more outside as his tears fell. The once smooth stone was looking worse for wear with a fine crack running throughout the round surface. The sun was blotted out by the clouds an dteh world became dark again. How many of them had followed the Dark Lord? How many had outgrown him at last? Ron. Hermione. He heard the slap of the water on the side of the ship and sighed, just as the door opened. Tom walked inside with a soft smile, bearing a tray of fruits and nuts from the island. Ley immediately felt a small smile find its way onto his lips at the quirky man that settled on the bed next to him. Tom would never leave him. He was as bound to Neverland as Ley himself.

"I thought you may be hungry." The Captain offered, picking up a fat purple berry and pressing it to the boy's lips teasingly.

Ley giggled but opened his mouth so the older teen could pop it in with a grin. They had breakfast this way and at the end, Tom leaned over and gave Ley another one of the passionate kisses that he had given him. His hands trailed up the boy's chest and inevitably came in contact with the stone. When he felt the crack rub against his hand, Tom jerked back and stared at it in shock. He supposed he shouldn't be surprise with the recent events. Ley sighed and gave him a guilty smile. Tom's frown deepened and he took the pebble in his hand gently as if afraid that it would shatter at any moment. His eyes met the darkened emeralds intensely.

"Let me…" He whispered and, as before, he expected Ley to adamantly refuse, but to his surprise, the boy nodded and allowed him to take it off and slip it on over his own neck.

Tom felt his triumph nearly complete. He held sway over Ley's heart now, not Voldemort. When he leaned in to kiss him this time, he did not pull away. He leaned Ley back into the bed and the small teen did not stop him. He opened himself to him fully and finally allowed Tom to chase everything else from his desperate mind.

~ o ~

Ley was floating. Floating in a warm sea so dark that there was no break between it and the night sky. It's surface reflected like obsidian. Beneath the surface, seven flourescent yellow fish darted quickly, stopping for a moment to nibble on his half submerged hand. There seemed to be no other life in the ocean even though it stretched on for eternity. His body began to feel heavy and he slowly sank beneath the warm, body temperature water. No waves lapped at him as he sank. The sea was as still as glass and Ley did not fight it. He slid beneath the water and the dark below wasn't suffocating as it should have been but comforting. He could see the bottomless depths around him as clearly as if he had been standing on land. He didn't seem to have the need to breathe. Instead, he looked around. All was still as he sank further. There was no bottom in sight nor any sort of end. Movement caught his eye suddenly and he turned towards it. Something was cutting through the water, swimming in his direction with a silver, streamlined body. The sliding form called to him, tugging at his very essence. As it drew nearer through the still water, Ley recognized it at last. It was an enormous serpent with two heads conjoined at the middle. Somehow he knew that it would not harm him. Each head had a set of red eyes and when it got close enough to wrap around him solidly, it's scales were hot like blood. Almost scalding. It's forked tongue whipped out to taste his cheek. The other tasted his neck.

In his sleeping, Ley did not see his fairy peek in at the window of the Captain's cabin and shriek with horror before racing off to find someone who could help.


	6. Alone

A/N: Yay! Another HarryXVoldie! This one will actually have a few parts in later prompts during this anthology, so hold tight for those of you who favor Alone!

Disclaimer: Nope!

Prompt 030- Alone

Voldemort wandered through the abandoned ruins of what was once the greatest magical school in history. The cracked and fading tiles beneath were exposed to the open air and the elements since the roof had collapsed. The majority of the rubble had been cleared although he had performed that last chore himself. His Death Eaters didn't dare come to this haunted place. It was his favorite place to wander. The sentiment was oddly appropriate, he thought. After all, Hogwarts had been his home once. He had spent the majority of his life in these desolate, once hallowed halls. They were now stained with the blood of children and adults alike.

The Great Lord Voldemort did not, however, come to this place to brood as he usually did. No. This time, he was here specifically for one purpose and one purpose alone. He was on his way to retrieve something that belonged to him. Something of great value. His Horcrux was so carefully and cleverly hidden in the depths of the school. It had been his since it's creation all those years ago. It had been so long. Alone, he walked through the monument. Every so often he would catch a glimpse of one of the original Hogwarts ghosts that had been just strong enough to cling to the mouldering brick but they never approached and after just the barest glimpse, they were gone. Only the dead made their home here now. Not even animals had repopulated the barren battlefield.

He finally came to what used to be the Great Hall. Now, the place was abandoned of it's splendor and magnificence. Gone were the chairs and the Head Table. However, it was this room that the air became charged with something that awoke when he approached. A memory or sorts. To his left, he caught a vague image of a child running and laughter, like an echo, followed behind. Voldemort allowed himself a moment to watch the wraith disappear and reappear behind the enormous black tree that grew up out of the center of the hall. After a moment, the phantom did not appear again.

Voldemort directed his attentions to the tree once more. It was a magnificent thing. Gnarled and twisting up through the room, its branches spread out like a fan. Even it's abundance of leaves were a dull black. It appeared as a shadow in it's entirety but for the shimmering orbs that covered the branches like fruit. There were hundreds of them. However, these were no fruits that had ever been grown in the land of the living. The orbs were the souls of the children who had fought and perished in the Last Battle. They had been trapped in semi physical form, unable to pass on until their purpose had been served and he had seen fit to release them. And what exactly was their purpose? To likewise trap his Horcrux here in this godforsaken place.

{ Open for your Master.} He hissed calmly even though inside he was quivering with excitement.

Immediately, the tree's twisting trunk began to unwind and the souls on the tree's branches began to shake violently. The center of the trunk was hollow in the center and nestled in a nest of living vines, forced into a magical sleep for the last ten years, was his Horcrux. Harry Potter. The vines cradled the boy like the arms of a mother. All in all it looked like the Soul Binding Spell had been a success. It seemed Harry had regressed in age somewhat but no matter. He now looked like a tiny twelve year old boy, instead of the battle hardened seventeen year old he had been when Voldemort had first Sealed him.

He was a relic of an age of innocence that had died when he had taken over the Wizarding World. Gently, ever so softly, Voldemort pulled the sleeping child from the tree, and watched as the branch's souls lifted up and passed on, their goal accomplished. Harry lay in his arms silently, but two souls had opted to stay behind. They glowed a slight purple color, unlike the others that had been blue. He frowned but shrugged it off.

"Very well, you may stay and guard him." He said to them and the two hummed in response.

They must be the souls of Potter's two friends. Interesting that they chose to remain instead of passing on to be with their friends and families. Who was he to wonder at the idiocy of small children though? Voldemort spun on his heel and carried his precious bundle out into the brisk air, with the two souls trailing behind with almost a content air.

~ o ~

"Where are they?"

His small voice came to me now like a bell tolling just beneath the surface of a dark still water. The childlike inflection of his voice could not disguise the age in it. The voice of someone who had seen many horrors and lived to see the end against their better wishes. I leaned against the bed post, watching him as he stared out at what was no longer the world he knew, but was somewhere strange and foreboding. This was not the world that Harry Potter knew any longer. This was the world ruled under my watchful gaze and firm direction. He didn't belong to this age any more than the hundreds of slowly forgotten graves out on the slopes of Hogwarts.

"All dead. I'm sure there may be someone left that wasn't involved in the battle who was a child at the time that you knew but the rest are long gone. They've been dead for ten years now."

He could almost hear that phrase slam into the teen as his hopes and his entire reason for fighting, for existing shattered around him. What would Harry Potter's reason for living be now that what he would die for had been snatched away? The small hero silently crumbled. No, not a hero anymore. Just a boy. Just Harry. Those bright eyes darkened and it seemed as if the color should have dimmed, become less because of the despair there for all to see.

"Ten years…" He heard the hoarse voice whisper in disbelief.

Harry looked down at himself with a frown, obviously taking in his shorter and much younger stature. Voldemort answered his unspoken question without prompting.

"The spell I used to bind you during the battle had some unforeseen side effects. You're back to your twelve year old self it seems. Though this time around, I hope to make things much less…confrontational."

At his quizzical, confused expression, Voldemort continued.

"I rule this world now, Harry. There is no war for you to fight. I intend to have you by my side. I will have you by my side." He said, the last part assured and almost forcefully stated.

Harry turned back to staring at the window as the man draped a heavy winter cloak around his shoulders for added warmth. The small teen sighed, barely noticing how the cloak swallowed him whole.

"I'm…tired." He whispered.

Voldemort put a directing, solid hand on his back and led him away for bed. After all, being unconscious for ten years was, of course, exhausting.


	7. Shudder

A/N: Yep! Another junkie!Harry! I do love them. ^o^

Disclaimer: Nope!

Prompt020- Shudder

Harry stared out of the window screen, a cigarette in his quivering hand. Kai's picture sat on his bedside table. Kai Sigurd Nikolaevich. He inhaled the hot smoke shakingly. It had been a year since Kai had passed away. TB, just like he had. Kai was…the best thing that had ever happened to him. He had given him his new name, loved him more tenderly than anyone ever had, given him a place to call home instead of sleeping on the street. He had gotten him off of the Silver…for a time. After his death, after watching his beloved drown in his own blood, Harry, known to everyone else in the world as Sven Dmitri Nikolaevich, had relapsed back into using the drug once more.

When Kai had passed, he had left him everything. The apartment, his money, all of his assets. Kai had given him so much and what had he done to repay him? He had gotten back on the drug that Kai had fought so hard to get him off of. Kai was the one who had sat up with him at night while he cried and begged for the Silver Nightshade, while he had shaken from withdrawal, when he had first gotten the TB. He sighed and waited for his next client to come in. Staring out over the streets of Wizarding London, he was no longer comforted by knowing he was under the same stars as Kai. Because Kai was gone and this time he wasn't coming back.

He made his living weaving powerful wards and spells into tattoos and painting them onto his clients out of his home. Sometimes though, in order to be able to pay the rent and still buy the Silver Nightshade he bought out of Knockturn Alley, he entertained his clients in their more carnal needs. He felt nothing when those other people touched him. He only thought of his Kai. Finally, a knock sounded at the door. It took no time at all to step into his Sven personality. It came as second nature to him now and, fingering the vial of Kai's ashes around his neck, he walked across the room to the door. His hands were shaking but it couldn't be helped.

With no money for medicine, there was nothing he could do. He was hadn't touched Kai's money except to pay off the apartment. He couldn't bear to. It was blood money. It only came to him because of his beloved's death. He would never touch it, no matter how badly he was in the hole. He did all right though. Politicians and thugs alike came to him for his trade. He had a unique talent. It was a small business and he was the best money could buy, wrong side of the tracks or not. He gave a short cough before, opening the door, keeping the chain on. Never knew when someone less savory would stop by and try to intimidate him. It never worked of course. He had powerful charms on his home. Every square inch was warded, even the floors. The man standing outside was encompassed in a thick, heavy cloak and nothing could pierce the darkness of his veil. That was not unnatural in the least. Many high standing people came to him, all of which would not fair well to be seen in the seedy part of London he called home. Some of his clients didn't want to be found at all.

"You are Sven Nickolaevich?"

He merely nodded, brushing one of his black, mid back length braids out of the way.

"You are expecting me."

Sven closed the door and slid the chain from it's clasp. He opened it wider to allow the stranger entrance. He took a long drag from his cigarette before putting it in the ash tray beside the window for later. The man lowered his hood and took a good look around the apartment while Sven inspected him himself. The man's piercing red eyes were known by everyone in the Wizarding World and even some outside of it. Lord Voldemort had rich dark hair tied back at the nape of his neck neatly and lovely pale skin. He was very handsome. If he had never met Kai, Sven would have to say that he was the most beautiful man he had ever seen.

"So, how may I be of service to you this evening?" The teen began, sitting in his swivel chair so he straddled the back of it.

Voldemort took the seat placed in front of the swivel Sven now occupied, his crimson eyes fixing on him.

"I am interested in one of your tattoos, Mr. Nickolaevich. And you, as well."

Sven smirked.

"Oh? And I suppose you have the appropriate payment?"

"I will make it worth your time, of course."

"That isn't what I asked, Lord Voldemort."

The man smirked and nodded, handing the teen the sack that jangled full of galleons. His services weren't cheap by any means. He was the only person known to do his type of work. Why? Because he had invented it and never released the secret. No one else could do it. Only two other people in the world had the power necessary for the wards he created and one of them sat in front of him looking very out of place in his shabby apartment. Being a Horcrux also had something to do with it. Yes, Sven knew what he was and exactly how he came to be that way. Voldemort knew as well which is why Sven knew that he had spent years trying to track him down. His last lost Horcrux. Kai had found out and together they had unraveled the rest of the mystery. Voldemort was here to scope him out. Play ring around the rosie. They were testing the waters between the them. The night was surely going to be bringing some interesting moments about.

"So, Mr. Dark Lord, what kind of tattoo would you like tonight?" He asked, taking up his cigarette once more and taking a long drag, leaning back in his chair with a smirk of his own.

Time to play.

~ o ~

Sven's hand shook as he lowered the needle to his arm, sweat making his skin slick and hair damp and heavy. He couldn't escape Silver Nightshade. He needed it to go on. The need ate at his insides as surely as his self loathing and guilt did. The needle pressed against the skin of his arm and in that moment his apartment door slammed open. Tom ran to him, grabbing the needle he ached for so desperately and smashing it against the wall. Sven was sure that his eyes were wide as saucers. Those crimson eyes that were usually filled with amusement, caring or seriousness were furious. The glare seemed to burn Sven's own emerald green eyes so that he looked away, looking at anything but his lover above him. Tom shook him roughly, his anger getting the best of him once more.

"You promised! You promised me you would stop this! What am I supposed to do when you lie to me, Harry?" He yelled, his anger fueled by the fear he felt for this teen he adored.

Sven pushed him back, curling in on himself on the floor with a heartbreaking sob. Tom knew he should have never left him alone. Sven looked like someone who had been sick for a very long time. A combination of street life, prostitution and the drugs would do that to a person, he supposed.

"I DIDN'T LIE! I tried to stop! I tried! Merlin, I tried!" Sven broke down into sobs once more, tears spilling unchecked over his pasty, ill looking skin. He was thinner than ever and deep bags lay heavy beneath his eyes, "I can't, Tom. It hurts. Please...It hurts so much..."

The Dark Lord couldn't take the look of desolation and despair on his face and so he wrapped his arms tenderly around his lover while Sven cried and shook. Merlin, was he shaking. He didn't notice it when he had first come in but Sven was shaking as if he were freezing to death. Withdrawal was cruel to his beloved. He had been on the Silver for so long that when he finally went cold turkey, it was destroying him. Tom worried his bottom lip and silently wondered fearfully if quitting the drug would actually kill him. Looking down at the tearful boy, looking at the almost Inferi-like quality of his skin and dull eyes and how cold sweat covered him from head to foot, it seemed not only possible but very likely. He would have Severus come within the hour to examine him. He wouldn't lose Harry. He wouldn't lose his Sven.

~ o ~

Severus's hand paused at the thick track marks on the boy's inner arm. Many were old but some were recent. Where had his lord found this boy? From the physical evidence alone, the child, for he wasn't even fifteen yet, was a long term junkie, a prostitute and had a severe case of TB. Likely he had had the disease for some time and it had been left untreated. There was no telling what psychological issues the street urchin had accumulated over the years. At least he was free of AIDS and any other such unfortunate illnesses. In fact, aside from the addiction and the TB, he was relatively healthy if you pushed the symptoms of the previous aside. He just hoped the illness hadn't progressed to the boy's other organs. If it had, Sven Nickolaevich may very well die. He wasn't sure if he could clean a whole body of it. He cringed inwardly at the sickly looking teen while his lord watched like a hawk nearby. He certainly was protective of the boy. Severus was beginning to get the feeling that he would die a horrible gruesome death if his attempts at curing the boy failed. For whatever reason, Lord Voldemort had taken the child under his wing.

"I need to know how long you've been using and what." Severus demanded stonily, fully determined to live a few more years at the least.

Sven gave him the same apathetic look he had held the entire exam. Closed off and blank as a clean slate.

"Five years. Silver Nightshade."


	8. Secrets

A/N: Alright, so this is another therapy fic I'm doing with characters from HP. I dunno, I guess I was just in an angst mood. There will be angst, possible slash, complete disregard for canon and cursing. The song is All You Need Is Love from the Across The Universe soundtrack (orig. by the Beatles).

Disclaimer: I own nothing from HP or the music.

There's Nothing You Can Do That Can't Be Done…

Hermione gave me a push towards the door, throwing me a soft, reassuring smile. I sighed and watched her walk away. I had been escorted to the northwest tower of the castle with her at my side for moral support. Ron and I were still on the fritz but I appreciated that fact that he would be asking about my and my current state when she got back to Gryffindor Tower. I stared at the door in front of me, it's old wood looking so innocent in the dim lighting. I was trembling with anxiety and apprehension. I didn't want to do this…I didn't know if I could go through with it after all. But Hermione would be so disappointed in me. My lip trembled along with the rest of my body as I opened the oak door and stepped inside.

There's Nothing You Can Sing That Can't Be Sung…

Draco glowered from his seat in the semi circle. Blaise was sitting three seats down from him and he wished that they hadn't been seated so far apart immediately. It was Blaise who suggested he come to this stupid group anyways. His friend had been coming long before he had. His glower turned to that of surprise when none other than Saint Potter walked through the door, looking as frightened as a baby deer with an axe to it's neck. He took a seat on the other side of the circle, visibly trying not to look at anyone. All eight seats were filled and I became surprised at those in attendance. It was a group I would never have expected to see in a place like this. Professor Vector was passing around refreshments for anyone who wanted any. I noticed that the only two who didn't take anything were Potter and a girl two chairs down from him. They both just had respective glasses of water. I nearly winced at my nemesis. He looked drawn and painfully thin.

"Wonderful! I'm glad to see all of you showed up today! Welcome to our first session of Y.A.Y. As many of you may already know, that stands for You Are Yourself and our goal in this group is to help you all realize that you are each your own person. Who you are is not what the people around you shape you to be, but what YOU define yourself as being. I am Professor Vector, but in here you may called me Miss Vector or Miss Septima, whichever you are most comfortable with. Now, to start, why don't we all introduce ourselves, first names only, give our reason for being here and one secret about ourselves. Draco, since you start our circle, why don't you begin?"

I sneered. This whole thing was stupid. I fought the urge to walk out right there but I looked over at Blaise, looking so weary and distraught, and then over at Potter who looked so small against the two sitting next to him and realized that I couldn't do it. Blaise needed me to be there for him and strangely, I got the feeling that Potter needed me too. I didn't see any of his bloody friends here with him at least. I stood up regally, as always!, and looked around.

"I'm Draco, as all of you should already know, and since I'm here, I may as well go for it." I shrugged off my robe and jerked the sleeve of my pressed and perfect white shirt up so they could all see my arm. I heard several intakes of breath but they did not deter me, "I'm here because I cut myself because…with everything I experience, I figured something has to change. Something on the outside has to mark what's been done." I said stiffly before pulling it back down and sliding my robe back on.

I looked across the circle into Potter's green eyes and to my surprise, saw something I had never seen before. Admiration. For ME. It was an awe inspiring moment for me. I mean, let's face it. I had always been a little jealous of the sod. To see that he actually admired ME, definitely caused a pause. My neighbor stood for his turn.

"I'm Cedric and I'm here because I tried to kill myself. Twice. My secrets is…that I'm just afraid of living. That I'm not really brave at all like everyone seems to think."

His voice was soft as he spoke and the next stood for their turn.

"I'm Ernie and I'm here because I can't seem to sleep anymore. I can't sleep because I'm too busy going over in my head all of the things that I have to do, that could happen, the what if's and all of the worries seem to be intensified in my head. I haven't slept since Friday."

Merlin. It was Tuesday now. That was a long work day. Blaise stood up with a sigh.

"Hi, I'm Blaise and I'm here because my mother's last husband abused me and I loved her too much to tell her about it. I didn't want to hurt her so I let it keep happening until he died."

I felt an ache in my chest at that. How many times had my best friend come to my house in the middle of the night only for me to clean up the blood and the bruises that were covering him?

"I'm Dean and I'm here for my depression. Everyone thinks that we're such a happy family at home but what they don't know is that my parents hate each other and they're so busy yelling at each other and fighting that they forget I even exist. They ignore me because they hate each other too much to see that I'm there."

Finally, it was Potter's turn. He stood up, his body still shaking and I idly wondered if it was because he was really afraid or because his body wouldn't stop shaking on it's own.

"I'm Harry and I'm here because I starve myself. I don't eat because I don't want to wake up one day and be the stupid gluttonous freak that my relatives always told me I was. I don't want to be like them." He nearly whispered, unconsciously rubbing a rather nasty bruise on his cheek.

It was in that moment that I realized that the Boy Who Lived may not have the perfect home life that the media and Dumbledore made everyone think. Just like me…

"I'm Luna and I saw my mother get killed by one of her own spells. I hide it well but I miss her so much that sometimes I can't even sleep at night."

"I'm Hannah and I'm here because my friend caught me making myself throw up in the bathroom after dinner one night. She got me in here and I feel terrible because I resent her for it..."

Miss Vector handed each of us a leather bound journal, each with a lock that only opened for us.

"You all did wonderfully. Now these are your journals to keep. I want you to write in them, everyday if you can but don't stress over them. They aren't for a grade. These are for you to write your own feelings in. Whenever you feel the urge to cut, to worry, to starve, to throw up or just feel down on yourself, I want you to journal it. Eventually, I would like you to write the good things that happen too. These are for your self reflection and only you will see them."

There's Nothing You Can Say But You Can Learn How To Play The Game…

I walked out of group with a new dark green journal and a newfound respect for my classmates. A few were softly whispering to each other as we all left but most were silent, contemplating what had been discussed today. We were to meet twice a week on Tuesdays and Thursdays after dinner with the excuse that it was an invite only tutoring session with the Professor. It was a good cover, I had to admit. I watched Harry out of the corner of my eye. To my surprise, he was whispering with Draco Malfoy and neither of them were angry. Now that was a sight to see. I pondered the small book in my hands. I would write in it of course, likely as soon as I got back to the dorm. There was so much…sadness inside me that it needed a way out. I just hadn't known how before. I wish I'd had the courage to show my scars to everyone like Malfoy had. It's a sad day indeed when a Slytherin shows more bravery than any other house at Hogwarts. Luna was back to her old loony self ahead, skipping down the hall. I smiled slightly. Our house mates may not like her but I held a particular fondness for the strange creature that seemingly danced through life. I wonder how much of what others saw was a mask to hide the pain inside? She turned to face me, her dirty blonde hair swinging wildly with the movement.

"Come on, Cedric. Wouldn't want to be caught out after hours, would you?"

There's Nothing You Can Make That Can't Be Made…

Hannah sat in the girls bathroom stall curled up with her arms around her stomach. She tried to ignore the mess that had just been flushed down the toilet, the remnants of her dinner. Why did she always have to feel this way? Ever since her dad had left and her mother had become obsessed with being perfect to run from the pain. Her mother had "encouraged" her to diet too but what her mom didn't know about was the whole stash of cookies, chips, candies and snack cakes that she kept safely hidden in her trunk beneath the clothes from first year that wouldn't fit her anymore. Would her life ever go back to normal? Why couldn't things just be the way they were?


	9. Lithe

A/N: Okies, so Harry takes Edward to a nightclub! But is there something different about Harry today? Edward's gonna find out!

Prompt 018-Lithe

Warning: Slash!

Disclaimer: I own nothing

How had he convinced this little minx to bring him here? The music was deafening and he could think of three hundred and seventy four things that he would rather be doing at the moment. The press of humans was claustrophobic but not just any humans. Wizards. Wizards, and vampires and weres of all kind. Oh my! The beat of the music was loud enough to shake his teeth and he was slightly disgruntled when Harry pulled him through the gyrating crowd. He saw several wandering eyes watching his mate lustfully and fought the urge to snap at them. Lecherous bastards. Why had Harry brought him to this irritating place?

Dark Escape was the most exclusive club in the Wizarding World. Buried in the catacombs beneath the streets of Paris, it was ideal for it's purpose. A club catering to every ilk of magical creature, and dark wizard that could afford entrance. Harry however, had a free pass since he was a partner in the ownership, along with one Draco Malfoy, a vampire named Sanguini, a perverted unscrupulous bastard named Sacha Yakov Vladilen, apparently Draco's new weekend lover who had been making passes at his mate since they met.

Vladilen was a wealthy egotistical-yes, he hadn't believed it at first either- Pegasus. He wore his human form when he ventured into the human world but Edward had seen his transformation and had learned about their special gift first hand when, in a fit of irritation at his interrupted flirting, Sacha's eyes had sparked white and Edward had received a very nasty electrical shock. He'd hated the man since and often made horse jokes at his expense, much to his mate's frustration. Harry pulled him into the center of the pulsing crowd and spun around to face him, mischievously grinning. His dislike for the place melted when he saw how much Harry was enjoying himself.

"Edward."

Some how he heard the teen say his name in amusement over the beating music. His gorgeous mate wrapped his arms around his neck and began to lead them in a dance, the same type that the crowd around him was immersed in. Immediately, everything else faded away and he learned why humans liked this sort of thing. Harry's body was lithe and temptation in physical form. He was enticing and the way he moved just like that against him was deliciousness. He could feel Harry's pulse beneath his skin and, in a strange moment of daring, Edward slipped his hand up beneath the back of the teen's shirt, just holding the thin waist.

The way Harry's body moved was something that he would never tire of observing. He was graceful as a panther and sly as a serpent. His eyes had the power to bring him to breathlessness, to make him feel excited just at a glance but also to bring him the fiercest frustration. Harry was currently leveling him with a stare heavy with want and desire. It nearly broke Edward's thin resolve to remain abstinent and force him to take his mate to the nearest empty room possible. Harry turned in his arms, leaning his head back against Edward's shoulder as he dance, moving as gracefully as a dancer, teasing with every touch and caress. Edward's hand was now on his stomach since he had turned and he ran his hand over the almost fevered flesh he found there. He and Harry hadn't ever gone further than kissing. Perhaps this trip was Harry's way of saying he was ready and thoroughly sick of the whole "no sex before vampirism" plan. Well he was doing a damn good job of getting his point across if that was the case.

He knew his eyes had to be completely black by now, unable to mask the feelings coursing through his normally cool body. He pulled the teasing minx into an intense kiss. Harry almost seemed to relax, as if relieved, in his arms. How beautiful he was in the vampire's eyes! There was no shortness of attraction there between them. It set Edward's teeth on edge and made his wizard's pulse race. He wondered if his mate ever woke up sticky from a dream of him. The thought made him whimper shamelessly against the cherry lips. Venom was filling his mouth and he kissed the teen hard, letting him taste the fierce reaction that he was having to him. No doubt Harry could feel it as well. Why a bloody club of all places?

He could see Draco and Vladilen grinding nearby and mentally nodded to himself. Good. At least for now that bastard wouldn't be eye raping his mate. His mate. Why hadn't he and Harry completed the bond yet? It seemed so stupid now. Why had he said to wait? He couldn't even remember. Not with the gorgeous teen practically writhing against him. All sense flew out the window when he felt that pale hand trace along his stomach beneath his shirt. Harry led him over to a room in the back marked employees only and then to a locked room that was surprisingly decorated considering it was in a catacombs. Harry retrieved a key from his back pocket and unlocked it. It was fully carpeted and walled just like a regular room would be. With all of the furnishings that only magic could accomplish. Including a lavish bed draped in dark greens and black silk sheets. That did it for Edward. The moment that Harry locked, warded and silence spelled the room, he had him on the bed immediately. Their clothes didn't last long but neither could bring themselves to care.

~ o ~

They came back to the house looking disheveled and thoroughly shagged. Alice gave them a wicked smirk when they came inside, practically reeking of sweat and each other. Harry at least had the grace to blush when Carlisle cleared his throat, embarrassed. Edward just grinned mischievously.

"Did you enjoy the club?" Alice asked innocently while Emmett was laughing like a mad man against one of the counters.

Harry raised an eyebrow and a sly smirk spread across his face.

"Oh yes. But you under estimate me, dear Alice. We aren't done with our enjoying yet. There are twenty four hours in a day after all." He replied offhandedly, already dragging a surprised, wide eyed Edward up the stairs by his shirt hungrily.

The day that they discovered Harry's incubus blood was the day that Edward learned that clubs weren't so bad after all.


	10. Conundrum

A/N: Okay, so this one does a time jump. The first part is after Edward and Harry have just met. The second is after they start dating for awhile.

Disclaimer: Nope!

Prompt011- Conundrum

Edward watched the lights go out around him in the cool locker room and grumbled irritably when there followed screams, swears and the sounds of trampling feet from his classmates. He rolled his eyes. Humans. Why he had to come to high school, he would never know. It was an annoyance and the hormone driven, simpering teenagers around him were nothing more than one large headache. He closed his locker, able to see in the dark better than any human ever could, and was just about to close the locker room door behind him when a small pitiful sound echoed out of the back of the stone room. He sighed.

What moron decided to stay behind in the dark in a room with no windows when the storm sirens were going off? He heard a shuffle and then the sound of someone tripping over the likely scattered belongings on the floor in the back of the large room. A strange cry of alarm reached his ears along with the immediate scent of blood and a whimper. It took him a moment to realize the origin of the cry and he froze.

Harry.

Edward winced. He wouldn't have heard the sirens, obviously and since sight was what he relied on, the poor teen must be confused and frightened. He hurried to the back of the room, feeling somewhat bad for his earlier thoughts. Harry was sprawled on the concrete floor helplessly, his head bleeding from where he hit it on the wooden bench in his fall. His emerald eyes were darting around tearfully, unable to see passed the pitch darkness enclosing him.

~ o ~

Harry had just gotten his shirt on after Gym, closing his eyes as he always did when he pulled the fabric over his head. He expected to be able to reach down for his socks when he was done but instead, opened his eyes to darkness. He could feel some sort of dull vibration under his bare feet on the stone but the concrete was so thick that he couldn't make out anything more. His breath clogged in his throat immediately as he took a step back and tripped over the bench behind him. What was going on?

He couldn't help the whimper that crawled up from his chest. The room was lacking the busy buzzing of dozens of voices and movements of his classmates now and echoed eerily and empty as a tomb. The darkness was thick and tangible as if it would reach out and grab him at any second. Not many knew of his fear of the dark. Not many would likely understand unless they too were deaf. He relied heavily on his ability to see and to have it so suddenly taken terrified him to the point of panic.

He tried to reach out and find the lockers but his haphazard trip over the bench had disoriented him and he missed, reaching out only into empty air. He tried to shuffling calmly away but his panic had too much of a hold on him and he ended up going too fast, catching his feet on the unseen backpack on the floor and sprawling into the bench in front of him. His head collided with a crack and Harry couldn't hear himself cry out in pain as the wound began to gush. He sat on the floor, too panicked to move and feeling to helpless not to tear up in frustration and pain. His head was splitting it felt like even though he knew that it was likely only a small wound. He had resolved himself to try and crawl along the wall of lockers to find the door when a cool, tender hand touched his shoulder.

Harry jerked in shock at first, surprised at another's presence, that someone had remembered he was here. Then the shock wore off and relief crashed down on him like a wave. He grabbed onto the hand, using it to pull himself towards the person. As soon as he touched the hard, cool skin, he knew that it was Edward. Edward had found him and come to help him. The vampire pulled him up bridal style into his strong arms. Harry let him carry him out of the locker room, pausing only for a moment to open the heavy door. The lights were out all over the school but as they headed towards the cafeteria, Harry could see a few of the emergency lights shining from the large room. The students must all have been gathered in there because when they arrived and Edward sat him down in front of the door, he could see figures from the small windows moving about. His vampire savior pulled a pen and small notebook from his pocket and scribbled something short down, handing it to Harry to read in the faint light emitting from the cafeteria they stood in front of.

'Can you magic away the blood? For Jasper?'

Harry nodded shakily and with a wave of his hand, the blood was gone and Edward could breathe securely once more. They walked quietly into the cafeteria to the sight of the entire student body crammed into the room, loud and jittery from the surprise of the lights going out. The storm raged outside as Harry could see from the window across the room. Edward led him over to where his siblings sat calmly although Jasper seemed to twitch every once in awhile with the barrage of excitement and energy.

Alice fussed over him worriedly like an older sister or a mother hen before he grinned and assured her that eh was fine with the help of Edward's notepad. Harry found it odd to go from sitting alone to sitting with the Cullens all of the sudden. It was like by Edward carrying him over, the others had been reassured of his safety and decided to accept his presence. Emmett tousled Harry's messy hair to chase the spare wetness from his eyes as Edward no doubt recounted what had taken him so long to join them. Alice, though her skin was cool, gave him a cheery smile and wrapped an arm around his waist protectively. It was so odd. He had been alone and missing his friends every since he left Hogwarts and now he suddenly had these vampires that were watching out for him it seemed. The muggles all were awkward with him because they didn't know how to communicate with him or they tried to do everything for him as if he were incapable of doing things himself. He could do anything they could do, even more because of his magic, except hear. What was so great about hearing anyways?

~ o ~

Harry felt those emotions coiling inside him furiously, first bitter cold and scalding hot fear, self consciousness and hurt. He tried not to show it though. He didn't want to upset Edward even more despite how much he was unconsciously hurting him. Edward came to sit at the white piano, stroking the alabaster keys tenderly. His beautiful hands raised and began to sign with the little of the language he had begun to teach himself. For Harry.

'I wish I could play for you. So you could know how truly beautiful music is. If you let Carlisle give you the implant…I could play for you all you want. You could hear music, you could hear my voice and birds singing and every thing that I have taken for granted for decades. I want you to be able to hear all of it.'

Harry wrapped his arms around himself angrily, upset and confused. Why would Edward ask such a thing of him? How could him to allow that…? He seized his pad of paper and scrawled down his response angrily. Did Edward think that it didn't bother him to not be able to communicate with his own boyfriend? Did he think he enjoyed having trouble at school? But what was so great about hearing anyways. All it was were a series of sounds right? And he may not be able to speak but he could sign. He had his identity, his language and his pride. What was a bit of sound when he had all of that? Besides. How could he miss something he'd never known? How could he want something he didn't understand?

'I don't need to hear to know your laugh. I can see it in your eyes. I don't need music because I can feel the vibrations. I don't WANT the implant, Edward. If you're so hot on the idea, then they can drill a hole in YOUR head and glue a magnet to your skull!'

"Harry, please-" Edward began but Harry wasn't hearing any of it.

He stormed over to the light and flicked it off, angrily sitting on the floor and covering his eyes. He would not watch Edward try and persuade him! He would not let some doctor drill a hole in his skull just so he could be "fixed"! There was nothing wrong with him! He started to sign even though he knew that Edward would only be able to understand some of what he said. He just hoped it was enough for him to get the gist of it.

'Why do you have to change me? Am I not good enough as I am? When did I become disabled to you? When did I become in need of fixing?'

He was tearing up now and even though he couldn't see Edward's response, he knew that the vampire could easily see his own. The light flicked on behind his hands covering his eyes and Harry looked up. His boyfriend was now kneeling in front of him, his eyes guardedly soft as if he were trying to hide his frustration behind the tenderness. Edward was holding up the notepad. His elegant scrawl was written on the previously blank page.

'Let's not talk about this right now. Let me take you to lunch and a movie to make up for it.'

Harry smiled crookedly, glad for the reprieve but gave the vampire a half eye roll, taking the paper to write his response.

'Movies aren't really my thing. Let me know if there's a movie I can read.'

He nodded understandingly though there was a small flinch in his eyes that made Harry's smile fade slightly around the edges.

'How about lunch then and we can stop by the mall in Port Angeles and go to that new book store? They have a new coffee shop there as well that I think you may enjoy.' Edward suggested lightly, causing Harry's smile to lift once again.

'I'd love that.'


	11. Rain

A/N: More Edarry angst! 3 Bliiiiisssssssss! Hope all of you are enjoying these and if any authors or even you readers wanting to give it a shot want to adopt one of these stories please PM me and let me know!

Prompt 015-Rain

Warning: Slash!

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

He sat out in the cool rain on a tree root in the woods, just letting the water fall over him with a sigh. It felt good, cleansing. Freeing. He imagined that the fresh rain would wash away the hurt he was feeling, his emerald eyes closing under the open sky. He had long ago been soaked through but he didn't mind. He no longer shook from cold, he no flinched at the raindrop's on his skin. He felt…calm. It was the best he had felt in months. Even that aching pain that usually tore inside his chest had eased slightly, still present but subdued. Harry tried not to think back on the cruel words that had been said, the hurt that had refused to leave him since then. His memories came to him unbidden though and he released a soft moan of anguish at the visions.

' "I think I'm…in love with you, Edward." He whispered honestly, pouring his heart out into the words and it shone purely in his eyes.

Edward's eyes widened and a look of shock appeared. It was soon gone before disgust passed over that Adonis-like face. Harry saw something close to panic flicker through the amber eyes before Edward shoved him back. Harry's wide eyes looked up at him from where he was now sprawled on the floor, his wrist aching from how he had fallen on it. 

"I'm not gay!" The vampire yelled angrily before rushing from the room, leaving the teen to scrape the remnants of his broke heart from the floor.'

He remembered being so excited about finally telling the boy he loved how he felt, how he had felt for an entire year. He also remembered how he had felt as if he were dragging his shattered heart down the stairs, connected to him only by an invisible thread. He felt as if he would die. Edward had always been so kind to him. So why, all of the sudden, was he so cold and cruel? His unrequited love's face had been so sickened. Disgusted. That more than anything made Harry's soul fracture and drew a pitiful whimper from his throat. Why? Because now he knew what Edward thought of him. Now he knew that Edward thought that he was….disgusting.

He had prevented his tears until now and made his way silently out of the house, searching for a spot in the forest as far from the Cullen house as possible. He had walked for hours before he found this secret, quiet spot in the depths of the woods. Alone. Harry looked up at the darkening, crying sky and for the first time he managed to break through the daze of shock and allowed himself to cry. He cried heavy bitter tears that only the truly heartbroken can shed and let himself sob, knowing that there was none to hear it. He wasn't sure how long he had been outside. Hours. Under the dark torrential rain, it was impossible to mark the passage of time. For all he knew, it could have been days. How long had he wandered so aimlessly through the woods? How long had he been sitting, trying to not think about the rejection that had torn him asunder. What had made his secret knight in shining armor go from kind gentleman to heartless, punishing tormentor in a few short moments? Was he really that repulsive? How had it come to this? He didn't blame Edward. If…If there was something sickening to the vampire about him then that had to mean it was his fault. Edward couldn't help that he was repulsive. He let out a wounded sob, his only audience the wind and whispering trees. At least, that's what he thought.

"Harry…" Came a voice, so soft that he barely heard it over the pouring rain.

He leaned over, both in mortification and despair. Had he come to mock his pain? He hated that he was seeing him so beaten down, especially when it was at his very hands.

"Please…don't. Don't come close…" He begged, unable to look at the vampire but kept his eyes despondently on the ground while he leaned over his knees so his beloved wouldn't see his shame.

What was it about him that was so vile? Was it because he was gay? Very likely. Was it because he was a wizard? Possible. Edward stopped as he requested but Harry did not look at him. His presence made the pain in the teen's chest redouble, venom eating away at the hole in his heart. He was sure that nothing would ever fill that empty space again. Nothing but broken glass and cold steel needles.

"Harry, I-I'm sorry…What I said was-…hideous. I should have never pushed you and-"

"Go away, Ed-" The name caught in his throat pulling a choked, strangled gasp from him and he let out a sob before he could continue, "Please…just leave me alone."

His voice was grating and pleading. The vampire did not leave but came closer instead. Harry moaned hopelessly, cringing in on himself. He flinched back, falling to the mud soaked ground when Edward reached a hand towards him. The vampire seemed shocked when he finally saw his face, tear stained and filled with fear and absolute deepest despair. He was fiercely reminded of when Edward had shoved him away viciously. He was looking up at him in the same way now. From the ground like he was less than him. Something ugly must have crossed his face because Edward fell to his knees at his side as the rain redoubled it's fury.

"Please, Harry. Forgive me. I was…confused. In my time, being with another man was considered a disgrace. I was clinging to my silly human ideals and refused to see what was right in front of my face." Harry closed his eyes, uncaring that he was covered in mud or that they were both soaked through with rain. "I never wanted to hurt you…"

"Well you did. You did, Edward and…and I don't know how to bounce back from this. I don't know how to gather myself back up." He whispered softly but his voice still sounded gravelly and hoarse.

Edward nodded and touched the boy's cold cheek softly, the caress earning a whimper from Harry. His eyes were dark and haunted.

"I know and I'm so sorry. I was a fool. You spilled your heart to me and I crushed you like a villain in a story book. I can only beg your forgiveness and tell you how much I desperately adore you. How much I…love you. I couldn't lose you because I was too much of an idiot to open my own eyes. I only regret that it took Carlisle, Jasper and Alice to make me see that."

Harry's eyes widened like saucers and his breath strangled in his throat. What…?

"You-…You love me? And you want to be…with me?" He asked timidly, as if he were afraid of the answer.

Edward stroked his cheek, almost seeming to not want to break the contact.

"Yes. I just was too afraid of myself to realize it before. It wasn't until you went missing that it came to me." Missing? At the confused frown on the teen's face, Edward's eyebrows shot up, "Harry you've been gone for sixteen hours."

Sixteen. Wow, so much? Then it really hit him. Edward…wanted him. He wanted to be with him. He loved him. He saw something flash in Edward's eyes.

"I'm going to kiss you now…Is that alright?" He asked in a voice soft as velvet.

Harry could only nod numbly but not for long. The moment that Edward's cool lips brushed his, sparks flew behind his eyes. He was…loved. His beloved lion wrapped his strong arms around him and lifted him bodily, their lips still connected. They both were finally loved. After so long, they finally had someone to call their own.


	12. Heart

A/N: Yayyyyy! Edarry! This is Part Two of the Conundrum prompt from before.

Disclaimer: Nope!

Prompt026- Heart

Harry felt those emotions coiling inside him furiously, first bitter cold and scalding hot fear, self consciousness and hurt. He tried not to show it though. He didn't want to upset Edward even more despite how much he was unconsciously hurting him. Edward came to sit at the white piano, stroking the alabaster keys tenderly. His beautiful hands raised and began to sign with the little of the language he had begun to teach himself. For Harry.

'I wish I could play for you. So you could know how truly beautiful music is. If you let Carlisle give you the implant…I could play for you all you want. You could hear music, you could hear my voice and birds singing and every thing that I have taken for granted for decades. I want you to be able to hear all of it.'

Harry wrapped his arms around himself angrily, upset and confused. Why would Edward ask such a thing of him? How could he ask him to allow that…? He seized his pad of paper and scrawled down his response angrily. Did Edward think that it didn't bother him to not be able to communicate with his own boyfriend? Did he think he enjoyed having trouble at school? But what was so great about hearing anyways. All it was were a series of sounds right? And he may not be able to speak but he could sign. He had his identity, his language and his pride. What was a bit of sound when he had all of that? Besides. How could he miss something he'd never known? How could he want something he didn't understand?

'I don't need to hear to know your laugh. I can see it in your eyes. I don't need music because I can feel the vibrations. I don't WANT the implant, Edward. If you're so hot on the idea, then they can drill a hole in YOUR head and glue a magnet to your skull!'

"Harry, please-" Edward began but Harry wasn't hearing any of it.

He stormed over to the light and flicked it off, angrily sitting on the floor and covering his eyes. He would not watch Edward try and persuade him! He would not let some doctor drill a hole in his skull just so he could be "fixed"! There was nothing wrong with him! He started to sign even though he knew that Edward would only be able to understand some of what he said. He just hoped it was enough for him to get the gist of it.

'Why do you have to change me? Am I not good enough as I am? When did I become disabled to you? When did I become in need of fixing?'

He was tearing up now and even though he couldn't see Edward's response, he knew that the vampire could easily see his own. The light flicked on behind his hands covering his eyes and Harry looked up. His boyfriend was now kneeling in front of him, his eyes guardedly soft as if he were trying to hide his frustration behind the tenderness. Edward was holding up the notepad. His elegant scrawl was written on the previously blank page.

'Let's not talk about this right now. Let me take you to lunch and a movie to make up for it.'

Harry smiled crookedly, glad for the reprieve but gave the vampire a half eye roll, taking the paper to write his response.

'Movies aren't really my thing. Let me know if there's a movie I can read.'

He nodded understandingly though there was a small flinch in his eyes that made Harry's smile fade slightly around the edges.

'How about lunch then and we can stop by the mall in Port Angeles and go to that new book store? They have a new coffee shop there as well that I think you may enjoy.' Edward suggested lightly, causing Harry's smile to lift once again.

'I'd love that.' 

~ o ~

We were sitting in the café, several new books between us as I read through the new novel I'd been waiting for for months. I was so caught up in Mr. Darcy cutting off the head of a zombie that I didn't notice the man trying to garner my attention. Edward touched my hand gently but when I looked up, he was frowning deeply. I finally noticed the figure standing beside me. He was a tall, burly type of boy even though his face looked young and untried. He was tanned and had his long black hair back in a braid down his back. His dark eyes were glaring at Edward furiously. He was talking to me but I could only look at Edward for interpretation. My boyfriend's face was hard and tight and he retrieved his trusty notebook to begin writing down what the stranger said.

'His name is Jacob Black. He's one of the shifters from the reservation nearby. He's saying 'Do you know that you're hanging out with a perverted monster? You're better staying away from the likes of him''

Jacob was frowning at our mode of communication. Unfortunately for him, I understood loud and clear. I shot up out of his seat, signing angrily and shooting the werewolf a fierce glare. I could feel anger suddenly seizing my body. Edward tentatively interpreted as well as he could.

'Pervert? I'm assuming that's either a gay or a vampire joke and neither makes him perverted! Who are you to tell me who to be with? I don't even know who you are! You're a werewolf, he's a vampire, but you're the one accosting strangers in public! I would say that makes you the bigger monster!'

Edward was smirking and Jacob was staring at me in stunned silence. It looked like the puppy had bitten off more than he could chew. My boyfriend said something, no doubt sarcastic and snappish because Jacob's face turned an embarrassed, angry red before he stormed off between the shelves. I was shaking again but for a different reason. I don't know why I was feeling so fragile today. Maybe because Edward and I never fought like we did today. But I stood in the middle of the coffee shop, shivering and finding myself closer to tears every moment. I was used to people looking down on me because I was deaf. I wasn't really used to having people look down on me because I was dating a boy, let alone a boy vampire. It made me dread school starting again. I looked sidelong at Edward as he gathered our books and my coffee. I didn't want to hide how I felt about Edward. It would hurt him and I didn't want to. But at the same time, was I ready to have to battle off against small town prejudices as well as my usual battle for independence? Could I handle it? Edward smiled at me, a bright smile no doubt brighter because of my vehemence in defending him. I tentatively returned it softly. Edward meant more to me than any of those simpletons. If he stood by me, there was nothing I couldn't take. Come hell, Voldemort or prejudicial shape shifters, I would take every blow for him because he would do the same for me.


	13. Sick

A/N: Yea…I got nothing. It's just shameless angst. Sorry. The song is Second Chance by Shinedown.

Disclaimer: Nope.

Prompt 47- Sick

My eyes are open wide

And by the way, I made it through the day

I watched the world outside

By the way, I'm leaving out today

Well, I just saw Hailey's Comet shooting

Said, why you always running in place?

Even the man in the moon disappears

Somewhere in the stratosphere

I knew he was watching me. He was always watching. When I went to the hospital for my check ups, when I picked at my food in the school cafeteria, when I slept probably. He had eventually approached me and we had developed a friendship, later growing into a unspoken affection. His siblings watch us silently, as if they were able to sense what he could not. It didn't matter though. I would tell him today. I wouldn't put it off any longer. I couldn't. My condition had taken a turn for the worst.

"Edward." I said softly.

He looked up from his place at the piano in his living room. His family was conveniently absent but I could feel them all gathered in the kitchen, giving us some modicum of privacy. The Seer must have foreseen my fate. I merely stood on the stairs, not daring to take a step until my dizziness passed.

~ o ~

"Harry? Did you sleep well?" He asked kindly and I suddenly felt hurt inside.

It hurt me to have hidden this from him, especially now that I-! I swallowed passed the lump in my throat. He must have seen something in my pale face from he was suddenly standing at the foot of the stairs, with a frown in his perfect golden eyes. I wanted to cry at the sight of him. Before Edward, I hadn't feared my fate. I had had nothing to lose. He looked as if he was about to speak but I beat him to it.

"I'm dying, Edward…" I whispered, my emerald eyes dark and deep as pits.

My dear, kind Edward reeled as if he had received a physical blow. I hated to hurt him this way. Carlisle would tell him the details. He was my doctor after all. Once I became close to his son, Carlisle had taken on my case. Would Edward be angry that I had hidden this from him? The dizziness returned in full force, with reinforcements no doubt, and my legs buckled. For a moment I felt as if I were in free fall. I thought, 'If this is dying, it isn't so bad…'. I thought I had died, until I felt myself fall into Edward's strong arms. He cradled me against him, and when he cried out, his voice was frantic.

"Carlisle!" He cried, rushing to the couch and laying me down, stroking my forehead as if to reassure us both.

I sighed in contentment, feeling his hand on my cool skin. I was immediately wrapped in several blankets and carried upstairs to the bedroom once more. Jasper started the space heater while they desperately tried to warm me. Esme rushed downstairs, probably to warm me some broth. I wasn't able to keep much down now a days. The whole time, Edward never once left my side. He was gripping my hand like I would run away if he let go.

"Edward…" I rasped through the darkness creeping in on the sides of my vision.

"Shhh, Harry. You'll be fine. Carlisle's going to fix you up all nice, you'll see. You're going to be okay."

We both knew that was the cruelest lie he could give me. The most false dream: hope. I knew that he was doing it for my benefit though. We all knew that I didn't have much longer. I had been sick for years now.

"Edward…I love you."

I felt both Carlisle's hands falter on me for a split second and Edward lay his forehead on my arm, his body shaking.

"I love you too…"

~ o ~

I regained my energy, fighting once more against the vicious illness that was every moment overtaking my body even more. That had been a bad day, one of many. However, my bad days were becoming more and more and my good days fewer and far between. Edward fussed over me constantly and Carlisle and Esme seemed to always be asking me how I felt and trying to get me to eat even though I knew I would just throw it back up. I was dying. I had been dying for some time now and I was just so…tired. I knew that it wouldn't be long now. Watching Edward and his wonderful family watch me get sicker and sicker was somehow even worst than knowing I was dying itself. I couldn't put them through that. I couldn't let them see me die. I couldn't put Edward through that. So I had a choice. I had to choose between what I wanted and what was right. So I managed to apparate out of the garden with my belongings shrunken in my pocket, leaving a letter for Edward to find when he got back from Port Angeles. I got on a train and I left, wishing desperately for my beloved to understand my intentions. I knew that he would be upset but it was better this way. He would have to watch me slowly fade. I could imagine the look of agony on his face when he read my letter, but to be honest, I was too cowardly. I wanted him to…not move on but not to agonize as much over my death. I could never forgive myself for causing him pain but this was the best way I knew.

~ o ~

Dear Edward, 

I know you know what's happening. I'm dying and nothing I can do will stop it. This is the last thing I can do for you, love, so please don't despair. I'm gone now, yes, it's true, and I don't plan on coming back. I'm safe where I am (as if I were afraid of death now) so don't worry. I couldn't bare to make you suffer through seeing me die, Edward. It would have been too cruel and I wouldn't have let it happen if I could help it. I love you and I always will. Even after all of this is said and done. I love your family and you too much to make you watch my slow decent and so I've gone someplace where I can wait out the rest of my short days. I want you to remember though that none of this is your fault. There was nothing anyone could have done and I've accepted that. They say that you should never say goodbye because saying goodbye means going away and going away means forgetting. Well, I know that you will remember me, for better or worst, though I hope for the better. Just know that despite how our story has ended, you have changed me for the better. So goodbye, my love, my best friend, my life long companion. I love you. A thousand times I love you. I should give you some little sonnet about how my love for you outnumbers the stars in the sky, but you know I'm not the type to wax poetic. Be strong for me and live for us both.

\- Always yours until the end of forever, Harry

~ o ~

Please don't cry one tear for me

I'm not afraid of what I have to say

This is my one and only voice, So listen close, it's only for today

Well, I just saw Hailey's comet shooting

Said why you always running in place?

Even the man in the moon disappears

Somewhere in the stratosphere.

Tell my mother, Tell my father

I've done the best I can

To make them realize this is my life

I hope they understand

I'm not angry, I'm just saying...

Sometimes goodbye is a second chance

Fin.


	14. Cold

A/n: Oooo angst Edarry! Woot! Enjoy!

Disclaimer: Nope!

Prompt031- Cold

A heart attack cause by drug overdose. That's what they listed the cause of death as. Edward stood silently in the bedroom he and his mate had shared, still in the cloths he wore to the funeral, staring at the cars out of the window as everyone drove away. How could he go on now, knowing that Harry was gone? How could he bare to be in this bedroom, the room that they had shared, knowing that his beloved would not be joining him? For the first time since he had become a vampire, he wished that he had the ability to cry. He heard Rosalie walked up behind him, setting her hand on his shoulder comfortingly. It didn't make him feel better. In fact, it just made him feel colder.

"Edward…I know this is difficult for you…Are you alright?" She seemed to realize what a stupid question that was because she immediately quieted.

He didn't even grace her with a response. She had hated Harry. She had constantly put him down and called him a junkie and any number of horrible things, even after he was in a program and getting treatment. In fact, it was because of her that they had-! She sighed and padded out of the room, obviously disappointed in his lack of response. No. This was just too-! Too unnatural! Harry should be here in his arms! Not in a box under the ground! How could something so…so normal, so muggle, kill the most powerful wizard in history? How? It was ridiculous. No, it had to be a mistake. Harry probably just faked his death to get away from the press, or Dumbledore, or the next upcoming Dark Lord, something! He was going to walk in any minute and be fine. Edward clutched the strange pulsing locket to his chest, seemingly drawing strength from it. He looked around at his room with a frown. It was alittle untidy. He should start cleaning it so it was tidy for when Harry came home. He always got in a tiff when things were out of order, after all…He slipped the locket around his neck and started to pick up. He wondered vaguely where Harry had gotten such a trinket. It was obviously magical, and it bore the initials SS, not HP or any derivative.

He made his way steadily into the bathroom, placing Harry's toothbrush back into it's holder. His mate would be irate if he realized that he had forgotten to place it back in it's home.

Edward.

See, Harry would be home soon. He wouldn't just leave him. He could almost hear him whispering, but that was surely the air conditioner. It was so low that even his vampiric hearing could just barely make it out. It must be the air conditioning. He gripped Harry's shirt from where he had picked it up off of the floor gently as if it were an infant. Or Harry's lifeless body…He choked on the air he didn't need and moaned as despair finally crashed over him and he was torn from his fantasy. Gone. Gone. Gone. Gone.

Edward.

He could still smell him, his scent, in their rooms, on the shirt in his hands, on their bed…Gone forever. Gone. Dead. Harry's dead…

Edward.

He whimpered, uncaring that his family could hear. He had lost his mate. Harry wasn't going to come home ever again. Edward looked up into the mirror at his pale face. Unfortunately, there was another pale face in the mirror as well. Harry looked out at him from the mirror. No! Edward spun around, trying to catch sight of whatever he had seen but there was nothing behind him. No sign of anything. No sign of Harry. He cautiously looked back in the mirror to find it empty. Just a normal mirror.

Edward…

There it was again. He was going mad. It had finally happened just like Emmett had always joked. He had lost it. Could vampires go crazy? He turned towards the shower and hung the shirt up on the hanger that was always in place. He sighed, feeling his heart break alittle more. Harry had died in this very room. Had it been painful? Had he known that he was dying alone? Had he even been conscious? Had he cried out for him…? Had he been afraid? Edward turned around only to find himself face to face with his dead lover. He stumbled back, shock taking over. No. No, this couldn't be real! He was gone…Gone forever. The apparition stared at him for a moment before it's eyes alighted on the locket around his neck. Emerald eyes brightened immediately and Harry inched forward, reaching out slowly. Edward felt real and true fear shock through him, terrified that if those fingers made contact, his entire world would be shattered somehow. They grazed his cheek softly, feeling as soft as a cold fog. Before his eyes, Harry was wavering lightly.

"Edward…I'm here." The form whispered, drifting closer.

All of the sudden, his bedroom door burst open and his family spilled inside, Jasper's whole body rigid. Edward knew that his own terror was coursing through his brother's body but he couldn't dispel the feeling. His family was frozen by the door, equal looks of horror, fear and confusion on their faces.

"Harry?" Esme asked tentatively, stepping forward.

Rosalie was frozen in horror and for good reason. Edward knew that she blamed herself for Harry's death. The spirit in front of him seemed to sigh and smile lightly. Harry flickered out of sight for a moment before flickering back in like a candle flame.

"Oh, Esme…I'm sorry…You told me not to overdo it…" It whispered mournfully, looking over at the distraught mother.

It hit Edward like a Mack truck. It was Harry…but how? His beloved was somehow right in front of him, even though he had watched Harry's casket lowered into the ground. He straightened, walking over to the wavering form anxiously.

"You're…here?" Harry nodded, his eyes brightening slightly at his acknowledgment, "How?"

Harry's form wavered but when he faded back in, closer than ever to the vampire, Edward could almost see the shine in his emerald eyes again. The fact that he couldn't feel Harry's breath against his lips made him flinch on the inside.

"I don't want to leave you…" Was the whispered reply and Edward could see fear in those eyes.

He had never thought about death or what happened after. The thought that Harry would have been afraid to go made his heart ache for him. How he wished he could hold him again. When he thoughtlessly reached out a hand to comfort his husband, his pale hand passed right through the figure.

~ o ~

Harry sighed, coming down from the bedroom he and Edward had shared. The Cullens, all gathered downstairs, had given him the space he had begged for in order to reacquaint himself with his surroundings, memories and situation. He wasn't sure what he was going to do. He couldn't go to school, he couldn't go out. He wasn't even sure if he could leave the house. Was his soul tied to it? He thought back to seeing Edward yesterday and with a start remembered the locket he had been wearing. Riddle's locket. Had he somehow unconsciously made a horcrux and that was why he was still around? He shuddered at the thought. It was when he finally reached the bottom of the stairs that he looked up to see the coven of vampires staring at him in shock and horror.

"Harry!" Alice cried, her eyes wide in surprise.

He frowned at them all. Did he have something on his face? Edward made his way over to him slowly, looking as if he could barely believe his eyes. Geeze, had they forgotten he was here? At least that's what he thought until Edward reached out and touched his cheek tenderly.

"Edward, what-" He started before he jerked to a stop, his own eyes bulging comically.

Edward touched him! Harry reached out and touched his beloved's hand timidly, afraid that it had a time limit or something. When he met solid flesh, he flung himself around his mate happily. He could touch him! Edward jerked his face down for a kiss that seared his soul to his core.

~ o ~

Harry looked at what was happening with quivering limbs and wide eyes. There was his Edward, HIS mate, with his face to some- some GIRL'S neck! He felt his stomach turn and he rushed back inside their house. Esme was in the living room and Harry hurried to the kitchen for some privacy. His knees were shaking and his chest hurt something fierce. He looked at all of the perfectly folded towels, the polished utensils, all of the things he had done to prove to Edward that he was just as good as any living person. He had even found a special potion to put into food that would enable the vampires to enjoy it just like a human! It was too much.

He seized hold of the pot he had simmering on the stove, the elaborate dinner he had been preparing for his beloved in lieu of their impending anniversary, and hurled it across the room into the perfectly stacked cabinet of dishes. He couldn't feel the pain. For some reason the fact upset him even more. Boiling lemon sauce splattered every which way and the glass cabinet shattered, bringing the dishes inside crashing to the floor. He was bawling by now and every thing he had so meticulously prepared for Edward just reminded him of what he had just seen. The betrayal. Esme was shouting at him from the doorway of the kitchen but he just kept throwing everything in sight to the floor. He slumped against a ruined cabinet to the floor, crying hysterically as if he could purge the heartache from his soul.

Edward was suddenly standing above him with fear and worry in his eyes. He had bent over him but all Harry could see was the golden locket swinging back and forth on his neck. Rage grabbed hold of him instantaneously. He had worn his locket, his life source, while he had been- NECKING with that other woman! How dare he! Harry turned infuriated eyes on his mate. He reached up and grabbed hold of the hanging locket, ripping it off at the same moment that he disappeared from sight.

~ o ~

Harry found himself, still clutching the locket, in a familiar and dark place. It was black, dark as far as the eye could see. There was no difference between ground and sky, thought one got the sense of hovering just above something more solid. He floated his way through aimlessly, trying to make sense of all he had seen. He didn't really know where he was going or in what direction but he allowed his wavering form to be pulled along to whatever his destination was.

How could Edward do that to him? How could he…cheat on him, after everything. Sure he wasn't alive but who was Edward to judge? He was a fucking vampire! A door appeared from the darkness. A very familiar door. Numbly, Harry reached out and turned the handle, allowing himself to go through. It was the bathroom off the bedroom. The bathroom that he had died in. His lip quivered and he sat on the ground where he knew that he had fallen. The very space where his breath had stilled and his heart had stopped beating. Just like when he died, he was, once again, alone.


	15. Missing

A/N: Okay, this is Part Two of the earlier prompt Cold. It's Edarry so you know what that means: Slash!

Disclaimer: Nope!

Prompt029-Missing

Edward raced inside once he heard the first resounding crash, leaving Bella staring speechlessly watching him race away. What was going on? Had something happened? He felt a sharp pang in his stomach at the thought that he had nearly given into his singer, the girl who fascinated him so. He'd been able to read Harry's mind when his Occlumency barriers were down or he wasn't focusing on keeping them up but Bella's mind was like a blank slate. He couldn't help but be draw to her, such was the fate of a vampire and his singer. Once he made it into the house and followed the sounds of his mother screaming and the various sounds of demolition. When he reached the kitchen in the house he and Harry shared, he stared in utter horror at the sight that found him. Harry was clearly upset because he was sobbing but he was tearing out drawers and throwing everything he could reach, including the nice dinner he had spent all day working on.

At last he slumped to the ground, burying his face in his hands. Edward didn't wait a moment. He rushed over to his beloved, fear filling his heart. What had happened to make Harry so upset? Had someone died? Had something happened? Once he reached out to touch his lover's shoulders, glowing emerald eyes jerked up to look at him. They were filled with such betrayal and hurt that Edward flinched backwards. Had Harry seen…? He suddenly knew that he had. Almost like he had glanced off of the ghost's mind and seen the thought. He froze, his eyes wide. Harry chose that very second to reach up and rip the horcrux from around his neck and disappeared into nothing. No. No! Where was he? He had to explain! Edward barely registered that he was screaming the boy's name, shuffling through everything on the floor, trying to somehow bring his now missing beloved back. He raced to their bedroom and all over the house, searching for Harry. He only found empty space and silence.

~ o ~

Edward looked haggard. He was a mess. He had barely left his room, waiting for Harry to return. It had been three weeks. It had gone back to the way it was when Harry had first died. He had mourned and despaired. There was no light left in the world. And he had lost him now all over again. He was staring at the closed bathroom door. After Harry's death, he had shut the room off and no one had entered it since. Not even after his beloved had come back to him from beyond his grave. Now, he had been staring at the door in thought for over thirty six hours. His eyes were black from hunger but he ignored the sensation. He knew that if Bella were to come strolling in now that he wouldn't be able to resist slaughtering her. In the face of losing Harry forever, that didn't seem like such a horrible thing now.

He had been thinking about that stupid door this entire time. The bathroom to be more specific. The locket that Harry had taken from him when he disappeared was the boy's sole tie to this earth. But Harry himself couldn't destroy the thing. So what had happened to it? Somehow, he got the feeling that if he found the locket, he would find Harry. So where was it? Harry had to stay in the area of the locket, and Edward knew that he didn't have the energy after that little display to leave the area of the house. So it was hidden somewhere nearby. Staring at the bathroom door, he stood and slowly began to approach it. It was the only place that eh could think of. The only place that no one ever went. The room where Harry had died. The handle stuck after over a year of disuse and it took a little push for him to get the door opened. It creaked ominously and stale air whooshed out at him. He could almost swear that he heard a whisper on that air.

Edward walked into the room as if half expecting to find his beloved's body on the floor once more. But there was nothing. Not a body, nor a figure. There was a slow, eerie presence, however, that made the hairs on his neck stand on end uncomfortably. The closed shower curtain waved slowly as if in an invisible breeze. He froze.

"Harry?" He called lightly, for once afraid of what he would find.

The whole situation was making him nervous. The temperature in the room was getting chillier and chillier, dropping swiftly. His breath began to come in a fog and the door slammed behind him hard enough to crack the border. Just as he spun around, he noticed the stand up body length mirror a yard away begin to crack and freeze around the edges as ice began to consume the glass. He approached the shower, his heart in his throat. Was Harry here? There was that whisper again, just soft enough for him to not be able to make out what was being said. Soft enough for him to doubt himself. He was a vampire. Harry was a ghost. If he decided to do something, all of Edward's inhuman strength would be useless against him. He vaguely heard a pitiful whimper and a small plea, a memory of the cries he had heard that day Harry had disappeared, though it was swallowed by the whispers. It was like a memory left behind, a recording of Harry's words that day. He threw the shower curtain back to be met with empty space. Harry was not there and neither was the locket.

He heard a rough strangled sound from behind him and spun around quickly to be faced with a ghostly apparition. It held Harry's form but that's where the similarities ended. In place of eyes were black empty pits, it's skin was tight and greyed and it's hair fell around it in scraggled, messed curtains. It's breathing was labored and sounded as if he were breathing through sand. It cocked it's terrible head at him before it's mouth opened and a spill of pills came from the open mouth. Green, white, pink, and red pills fell and fell, hitting the floor like a waterfall. It wasn't hard to recognized them. Harry had been sickly when they met and was always taking some sort of medicine. The mouth closed and an odd choking sound came from the horrible thing. It's mouth opened again while Edward stared in horrified shock but this time it was not pills that spilled forth but sand.

It spilled out and hit the pile of scattered pills on the ground, eventually spilling over Edward's shoes. There was a pathetic whimpering from the thing, more of a wordless mewl of agony before something else fell into the pile. Something small and gold and so sickening familiar. He ignored the thing standing before him and bent down to pick up the tiny object he had become so entranced with. Once in his palm, he lurched backwards, barely daring to believe it. It was Harry's wedding ring he had given him. He looked up but found the ghastly spirit and the pills and sand gone. Instead, he found a body line, tracing out the place where his beloved had been found. There was an X in the center where Harry's heart would have been. The whispers were breezing around him once more, urging him to go, to leave, to do something.

Unthinking, he dropped to his knees and abandoning, the ring to the side, dug his hands into the floor and began to pull. He pulled up the tile, the floorboards underneath, the guts. Eventually, he dug down so far that nothing but the downstairs ceiling was left. The temperature in the room was below freezing now, dropping more and more as he dug frantically. The whispers had grown in intensity and then he saw it. There, at the very bottom of the floor, resting in the darkness, was the locket. Edward immediately snatched it up, cradling the thing against his chest as if it were Harry's very heart he held as softly as a baby bird. The pulsing that usually came from the thing was quick and rapid and then alternately dangerously slow the next moment. The whispers began to moan pitifully and it was as if the locket itself was sobbing. Edward felt his heart break all over again. How had he reduced his Harry to this? Hanging on by a thread to existence just because he hadn't been able to control his own urges and curiosity.

He stroked the warm metal, his eyes burning with the tear she couldn't shed.

"It's okay, Harry…I've got you. You're not alone anymore. I'll protect you always." He whispered to it.

The whispers decrease din volume and strength until there was only one. To his amazement, he could finally pinpoint it. He walked lightly over to the tall mirror at the other side of the room and knelt down in front of it. Inside the glass there was Harry, curled on the floor, sobbing. Edward tried to reach other for him but was met with only cool glass. The room was starting to warm up again.

"Harry, I'm sorry. I was only curious about her. She's my singer…But I haven't seen her again. It was only about the blood. I'm sorry…" He whispered pleadingly.

Harry turned his emerald tearful gaze to him at last, showing that he was listening. His eyes were filled with pain and loneliness.

"I love you and I miss you, Harry. Please come out."

Harry stared at him for a moment silently and slowly, he lifted his hand to touch the glass. Edward felt his fingertips against his own from where his hand still rested on the glass.

"Help me…"Harry whispered, seeming unable to move on his own.

His hand fazed through the glass and without hesitation, Edward took his mate's hand, pulling him through the mirror and into his waiting arms. Harry was less solid than he had been at his peak but he was solid enough for Edward to hold him tightly like he wanted. He wiped every tear from Harry's face and kissed the pain from his eyes. Harry clung to him as he carried him from the bathroom and out into their bedroom. They laid together on the bed until eventually Rosalie came inside to scold him for holing up like a hermit. Instead, she found tem grinning like morons at each other, the Missing Boy Who Died, missing no longer.


	16. Secure

A/N:Alright boys and girlies! Here's a Voldie/Harry but no slash sry. I know that it may get confusing. It is in reference to Michel Eyquem de Montaigne's writings. The title translates into "I think, therefore I am".

Disclaimer: Nope

Prompt006- Secure

Cogito Ergo Sum

But I have convinced myself that there is absolutely nothing in the world, no sky, no earth, no minds, no bodies. Does it now follow that I too do not exist? No. If I convinced myself of something [or thought anything at all] then I certainly existed. But there is a deceiver of supreme power and cunning who is deliberately and constantly deceiving me. In that case I too undoubtedly exist, if he is deceiving me; and let him deceive me as much as he can, he will never bring it about that I am nothing so long as I think that I am something. So, after considering everything very thoroughly, I must finally conclude that the proposition, I am, I exist, is necessarily true whenever it is put forward by me or conceived in my mind.(Descartes)

Chapter One Unspeakable Power

Voldemort grinned wickedly. At long last, his dream was coming to fruition! Dumbledore stood in front of his fireplace in his office, clutching an old worn piece of parchment to his chest. Bloody finger prints stained the thing. It was a curious site to behold. Of all of the things, all of the irreplaceable things, he could have grabbed, he decided to take an old piece of parchment. Curiosity enflamed in his chest and the Dark Lord decided that he wanted the paper, if only to see why the old man wanted it so badly.

"Before you die, Albus, why don't you show me what's on that paper of yours? You've peaked my curiosity now. Hand it over." He said, acting as if he were speaking to a child who had just done something amusing.

Dumbledore shook his head and it seemed as if he were truly afraid of not, he himself, the man about to end his life, but of someone getting the parchment. How…odd.

"I can't let you have it, Tom. Not unless you swear never to use it. You must swear me an oath to never use it for your own aims."

Voldemort sneered. What did the man take him for? One of his sniveling students, hanging on his every word?

"I swear nothing to you! Not when I don't even know what the bloody thing is! It could very well be your grocery list for all I know! Tell me what is on the parchment old man!"

Dumbledore's eyes were devoid of the sparkle they usually contained and the blue had darkened in seriousness. The change in his enemy made the Dark Lord hang even more on his every word.

"It is the key to the end of the world, not just our world but every world. Existance as we know it. It is the weapon that could end everything we know as logic and sanity with a single thought. I do fear it, Tom. I call it Ruin for I dare not speak it's name. To do so would bring it's unholy attentions on myself and as selfish as my most dire wish is, I would have it be in your hands and safe than free to do what it was meant to do. It is the Bringer of Silence. Swear me the oath that you will never use it's power and I will give it to you. No strings attached. I will walk away and leave it in your hands. Just swear you will not use it's power for your own goals and that you will protect it from those who would. Swear it to me!" Dumbledore pressed, his eyes filling with desperation.

He truly did want to be rid of it. Voldemort nodded at last. He had the war in his pocket now. He no longer needed such a weapon. And the key to the unmaking of existence? He was curious to see what could possibly do such a thing.

"Very well, old man. I swear that I will never use the Bringer of Silence, Ruin, for my own goals and to protect it for as long as I walk this plane of existence form others who would seek to use it as well. On my magic and my life I swear it. So mote it be." He said at last and held out his hand, suddenly frustrated at his exmentor for no reason whatsoever.

The Headmaster handed him the paper as well as a small golden key from around his neck. It had the numbers 363 clearly engraved on the body. It was a Gringotts key.

"I leave it in your capable hands now, Tom Marvolo Riddle. I just pray I have not just cursed you as well." He heard Albus whisper before the man burst into an explosion of flames, using his phoenix to apparate away.

The Dark Lord swore his stupidity. He had let the old man get away! Damnation! He glowered at the paper angrily before storming from the office to tell his troops to finish up.

He stared at the vault before him, watching the small golden key turn in the door. Things shifted suddenly, spreading outwards all along the massive thing. The whole door was the lock! It turned in one grating noise, taking him by surprise although the goblin next to him would have never known by his outward countenance. Grindalat gave him a dubious look.

"You are sure that you can keep it safe? It must never be allowed to be used." The gnarled wizened old goblin insisted as if he weren't standing in the presence of the Dark Lord.

Voldemort merely sneered as the heavy door swung open slowly. He heard the snap of the goblin's apparition as he stepped inside. The vault was black as midnight and not a light could be seen. A quick lumos later and he had to crane his neck upward to see. It took him a moment to register what he was seeing so warped was the image he took in. Hung in midair with chains, some as thick as his bicep, some as thin as a muggle pencil, was a child. A boy from the looks of it although it was difficult to tell because of the thick helmet-type mask over his head and eyes. He was wearing a robe that lay trapped beneath his bonds and his black as ink hair had grown down to his waist. How long had he been in here? Dear Merlin! He was just a child! How could they lock him away in a bank vault. It was no holding place. It was a prison!

'What are you doing?' Came the childlike voice, echoing throughout the room although Voldemort know the child had not moved at all.

He half thought that he imagined it when the question came again.

'What are you doing?'

The Dark Lord looked around to find the vault empty but for him and the frightfully small child. He frowned, certain in was not in his head because the echo of the cavern. Realizing how stupid he must look, he spoke out loud instead.

"I am here to get you." He replied, opting to speak to the child.

If the child was unconscious or dead, he would assume that some sort of magic was occurring. The same voice returned.

'To…leave?' It asked and the prone body tilted it's head with the spoken question.

He nodded gently.

"To bring you home with me."

'Home? What is home?'

"It's a place. It's where I live."

'I've never heard of such a place. The home is dark too, yes?'

"Well, no. Only at night."

'Night?'

Voldemort's frown deepened. What had happened here? This child was the Bringer of Silence?

"What is your name, child?"

'What is your name, man?'

"Lord Voldemort."

'No. That is what you are called. What is your name?'

How did he know of that? Only the old man knew of his true birth name! He sighe din frustration. The child was mocking him!

"Tom Riddle."

'Tom Riddle. Release me, Tom Riddle, and I will speak my name.'

He glared slightly at being told what to do, at being bribed, by a child. It was no normal occurrence that was for sure. He took the Sword of Gryffindor just as the parchment had instructed and slashed at the thickest of the chains. A screeching filled the cavern, echoing off the walls to create the most horrible din. It bounced and broke on the cavern sides, on each other and Voldemort had a silencing charm on his lips when the sound was smothered. It was quick and it was merciless. The noise was just suddenly, no longer there, as if it had never existed in the first place.

The chains gently lowered their small package into his arms, sliding away from beneath the child's flesh once he was down. It was a horrible sight indeed. Suddenly, the boy turned to look at them and the living shackles cringed back, writhing in submission. They shrank quickly into the darkness. The Dark Lord, in all of his days, had never imagined that someone would use Grindlewald's Chains of Redemption on a child. He had recognized the hideous things. The previous Dark lord had created them for the worst of all traitors to bind not only their magic but their bodies as well. The mask covered his face from his nose up and he imagined that it would be heavy but the boy gave no indication that it bothered him. How long had he been in here? The boy looked up at him, as far as he could tell at least. Voldemort marveled at the feel of the boy in his arms. He really was tiny! He could be no older than nine, surely.

'My name…is Ruin. That is what the old man said to me, Tom Riddle.' The voice echoed out loud once more, bouncing off of the edges of the cavern.

The chains were writhing as if in pain in the corner of the room. Voldemort was sickened. Had the old man lost it at last? What was this child in his arms, that he terrified Dumbledore so much that he would not even speak his true name?

"Have you always been here?"

'I have only known the dark. This space we occupy presently. What is present? What is 'here'?'

The child seemed to go on a tangent of strange thoughts that Tom couldn't even hope to comprehend. He picked up the frail body and gasped. It felt as if he were carrying a ghost, the creature was so light! The only weight he had to him were the robes he wore and the helmet that he still had not removed. Tom decided it was probably best to leave it on. If Ruin had always been in this vault then he would probably be terrified by larger spaces and his eyes wouldn't be able to handle even the smallest bit of light. Curiosity ate at him though. He wanted to see what frightened the old man so much. He cradled Ruin steadily and walked from the vault, the necklace dangling innocently around his neck, ignoring the fearful way the goblins all cringed and shrank away when they emerged into the empty lobby.


	17. Kiss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sequel to Another Chance at Life

A/N: Okie dokie! This is actually Twincest. It's the sequel to an older story I did called Another Chance At Life that I decided to do as a prompt. It takes place over time so they are older as the story goes on. So enjoy!

Disclaimer: Nope!

Warnings: twincest, slash

Prompt021-Kiss

Draven curled aroud his brother with a happy sigh. Their Papa and Daddy's were away tonight but Uncle Demetri was staying with them. They had crawled up in their parents bed and were listening to the Sluagh read to them until they could fall asleep. He looked down at his grinning twins bright eyes and kissed his nose lightly with a giggle. Cy's nose crinkled but he laughed as well, leaning up to give him a soft peck on the lips. Draven smiled but looked up in curiosity when he noticed Demetri had stopped reading and was watching their exchange curiously. Cy was frowning, wanting to know what was going to happen to the great Harry Potter next.

"Boys...can I ask you something?" Demetri asked calmly, placing his marker in the book silently. They both shrugged simulataneously, a action that had the Slaugh grinning, "Do you always kiss each other like that?"

Demetri and Cy looked at each other and smiled sheepishly.

"Yea. Daddy, Father and Papa kiss like that and we want to be close like they are." Cy said shyly.

He always had been alittle quiet. The two of them were eerie to others who hadnt handled them since their birth. They always operated in their own world, a world that others just couldnt seem to fathom. Draven nodded happily and pulled his twin closer, looking up at Demetri with a small smirk that Cy only mirrored. Demetri wondered if they knew each others thoughts, if they could talk to each other through a mind link like many powerful twins could, and as their father's could. It woud make sense. One of their fathers was an Incubus, one was the world's most sought after potions master and the other was the most infamous Dark Lord in history, the ruler of their world. The little princelings had a number of powerful bloodlines and magics coming together inside them. There was no telling what abilities they would grow to have. Demetri nodded curiously but did not press. He would bring up the subject with the boys' parents later. There was no need to make them feel self-concious now. The door opened and admitted a smirking Xaven. The boys jumped up immediately and ran over to him with happy cries, much to the Incubi's amusement. He scooped them both up at once.

"Well, how are my little raven's today, hm? Causing loads of trouble, I hope."

"You bet!" They chorused at once making him laugh out loud.

"Well, always remember, I'm your favorite uncle." Xaven said, setting them down and unshrinking two presents from his pocket.

~ o ~

Cyriacus shot up in bed panting, his black hair stuck to his face with sweat and his pajamas suddenly extremely uncomfortable. Draven lay wide eyed next to him, obviously had seen his dream through their link. Cy let his brother pull him close to calm him but when his groin met the firmness of his brother's body he groaned, burying his face in his pillow, unable to stop the soft pant that escaped him. He looked back over with a feirce blush and Dray's eyes were heavy with determination. He read the obvious question in his twins eyes and Cy nodded, watching with fascination as Dray's pale hand slipped into his pajama pants at the same time he pulled him flush against him. Cy's arms wound around his neck as his brother's long fingers began to make him see stars. Draven was very talented on the piano and apparently his talented hands had other pleasant purposes. Cy wasn't sure what was coming out of his mouth but by the way Dray's mouth was quirking upward and his lips parted when he hissed his name, he must have liked it. Something inside Cy seemed to click and he was suddenly kissed those cherry lips and stroking Draven as well. His brother threw his head back with a hissed oath in parsletongue. When he looked back down at him, the obsidian eyes widened and Cy could feel that weird feeling coiling in his stomach like Nagini about to strike.

"Cy, your eyes..."

He was making little whimpers and before long both he and Dray were spilling out over each others thighs. Draven lay, trying to catch his breath and pondering over what he had just seen. When he had touched Cy, the boy's eyes had gone the odd lavender color that their Daddy's did when they saw their Papa and Father kiss him alot or when he needed to feed. Was Cy an Incubus like Daddy? Perhaps they should do some research...Or even ask their parents.

~ o ~

Draven glared hotly at the Dementor Lord who dared to make a pass at HIS twin. He took Cyriacus's hand and stormed from the room, his Dad and Father frowning at their retreat. They were fourteen for Merlin's sake! Cy wasn't even courting age but once everyone discovers he's an incubus everyone wants in his pants! Cy was HIS! They ended up down the hall against a wall with Cy trying to calm his racing blood. His eyes were still ringed in lavender but it was slowly fading.

"Dray, its ok. We both know you're the only one for me..." Cyriacus said gently, tugging his twin against him.

Draven growled and jerked the teen into a crushing kiss that had Cy's incubus filling his eyes once more. He purred and his dark eyed twin grinned. He was the only one who had any business bringing Cyriacus's incubus. Cy's fingers were running through his dark, softly curling hair as his tongue traced his brother's mouth possessively. He broke away and latched onto Cy's neck, drawing cries and pants of pleasure from the teen. He rolled his eyes upward and watched his twin throw his head back with a cry, nearly banging his head on the wall so lost in the sensation he was. Draven loved when he could reduce his twin to a moaning sensitive mess because he was the only one who could and Cy was the only one who could bring him such pleasure. In a way, they fed off of eachother and no one else would be able to satisfy them.

Cy couldn't stop the mind blowing sensations that he felt when his twin touched him. He knew that if anyone ever found out, especially their parents, then they would be in for some trouble but he had only ever wanted Draven. Perhaps it was because they were so close or that they had never been away from eachother. As he threw his head back, Draven slipping a hand up his shirt to tease him, he saw a dark shape shift in the shadows. Linayel. The Dementor Lord was watching them and as soon as Draven heard this thought in his mind, his black eyes flashed and he sent a snarl at the creature but the dark figure was already gone. Cy could feel a cold fear building inside him and it was mirrored in Draven's own mind. They had been seen...Shit. Would Linayel tell their parents or would he use the information against them? Would he use it to try and get Cy into his bed? He ran a hand through his hair as he did when he was distressed and quickly secreted his brother away so they could shower and hold each other. They didn't think that their Dad would mind so much but their Father and Papa...They both hurried to their room cursing.

~ o ~

Linayel fazed out of the shadows nearest them as the two sat together under the full moon. Draven was on his feet in a moment, Cy not far behind. The Dementor Lord raised a hand in peace but they were cautious. He may not wish them harm individually, but he certainly did as a couple.

"Little Puppetmaster. Little Incubus." He greeted and quickly reassured their tension, "Have no fear Little Princes, your relationship is safe with me, however, I do not think you should fear the Puppetmaster's response. I believe he knows already."

Cy clutched Draven's arm and the teen put his hand over his twin's reassuringly.

"Why have you come, Lord Linayel?" Cyriacus asked out loud, his voice strong and unwavering, something that made Draven want to smile.

He loved when Cy got this way. He usually liked to play the dominant when he did and a pleasant time was guaranteed. It showed him that his previously shy brother was growing up alittle. He liked to be the one that protected Cy but he was glad to see his brother feeling confident enough in himself to defend himself. The Dementor gave a sweeping bow.

"I come to offer you my services should you choose to take...advantage of them. I am allied with the Puppetmaster but my powers and services are yours to command. I only ask that you allow me to offer myself to you." He rasped, lifting his head to look at the two practically radiating desire.

"To feed on, you mean. You would put yourself in the position of a servant, you a powerful Lord, just for an occassional dip in the bed of an Incubus?" Draven said disbelievingly, stepping closer to the Dementor scornfully.

Much to his surprise, Linayel, straightened and took his own hand, cold breath blowing across his wrist in the Dementor's classic way of showing their devotion. It was how they entreated each other and other's for mates as well. He was pulled flush against the tall figure quickly.

"It is not just the Little Incubus I desire, Little Puppetmaster. You may not see it in yourself but the two of you are quite the desired gems. Others will not understand that the two of you are two halves of one soul but I do and I am more than willing to honor that. In fact...I prefer it."

Draven felt that cold breath on his lips and had to step away quickly, fighting the shiver in his body. Cy looked over at him, their eyes meeting and Draven knew what he was conveying.

'What do you think, Dray?'

'I don't know. It is a good offer. The Dementors are a powerful resource to have. It is up to you, Cy. It's you who would have to feed on him.'

'He wants you just as much.' Draven shrugged and the Incubus sighed inwardly, 'I worry about feeding from you too often. My needs will be growing soon and I don't want...to hurt you.'

His twin's fingers laced in his own comfortingly and Draven nodded to him. He knew that Cyriacus was only worried that he would be unhappy with the decision.

"What sort of services are you offering, Lord Linayel?"

"Any thing you desire, my Prince."

"And I suppose you would want to seal our deal immediately?"

"Preferably, yes."

Cyriacus stepped up next to them, the Dementor's aura ghosting over his flesh. It was...very pleasant. His skin usually felt so hot that it felt good to feel cool.

"And you would want to announce yourself as our mate." He said slightly accusingly.

The Dementor tilted his head to the side as if studying the teen thoughtfully.

"If you would allow it. I am ancient, Prince. The time for me to find a mate of my own kind has long passed, spent instead protecting my own horde and participating in the wars of wizards. I have been awaiting your births for some time." He answered calmly, his voice heavy with age and experience.

Linayel's kind would live for as long as darkness remained in the world. Under their parents' reign, the Dementors and other Dark creatures had thrived. When they sealed the alliances of the other magical creatures, crature kind had rejoiced as a whole. Long thought dead alliances had been reborn. The Wizarding World itself, under the guiding hand of the Puppetmaster and his husband, had been reshaped and an age of enlightenment had begun. Strides were being made in the medical, potions and spell crafting, and restoration of old ideals and artifacts fields had overtaken their world. It was a much different, much more united world than it had been under the Old Ministry.

"You realize that Incubi may have more than one mate, don't you?" Cyriacus said, hoping the Dementor would not be expecting monogamy from him.

"I do. I have factored the fact in when I considered this course of action. The Puppetmaster was never monogamous and it used to drive the Dark Lord mad with jealousy. I will not be the same way. I will not smother you with some idea that does not suit your kind. It would be as if asking me to swallow sunlight. I can vow my own monogamy to you both, though. You shall have my never ending devotion and admiration."

Draven nodded and Cyriacus took his hand once more.

"You shall gain yourself two mates tonight then, Lord Linayel." Draven said calmly and the creature shuddered in eagerness.

They never noticed the false eyes watching them blankly from the trees.

~ o ~

They had agreed to meet Linayel in their rooms at midnight and consumate their unusual agreement. Cyriacus plopped down on their bed with a sigh, staring at teh ceiling. Draven was anxiously pacing across the room, probably worrying enough for the both of them. At least Cy thought he was until the young Incubus found himself pressed against the bed beneath the dark eyed teen. He looked up at his brother with a frown.

"Dray?"

"I don't want that Dementor to be the one to have you for the first time. I won't let him steal that from you, Cyriacus." He hissed.

Ah. So that was what he was so upset about. It wasn't that they were about to sleep with the Dementor Lord, it was that the Dementor Lord would be taking Cyriacus, as well as Draven's, virginity. He felt an upsurge of affection for his twin. Even when his own was about to be taken, Draven was thinking about Cy's virtue above his own.

"He can't steal it if I've already given it to someone else." Cy whispered, sitting up and pulling his twin down for a heated, half desperate kiss.

Tongues battled with dark determination and this time it was Draven who found himself pressed against the mattress while Cyriacus ravaged him from above.

~ o ~

"What the hell were you two thinking? You just go and eat any old thing that walks in the door? Do you know where he's been? AZKABAN! He's been in Azkaban that's where!"

"Exactly! You two are in big trouble! If I were your teacher it would be detention FOREVER!"

Tom and Severus both ranted and raved with gusto while their husband stood chuckling over a glass of red wine. Cy and Draven stood beside their calmer parent looking annoyed and sullen. They looked up at the Puppet Master with raised eyebrows. Harry rolled his eyes and gestured towards the door with a mischevous grin. The three of them snuck out of the room with matching smirks. Once they were out of the room, and Harry had sneakily locked the two irate parents inside, he looked down on his offspring with a smile.

"Well, I can't say I would have reacted that way. Don't worry about them, boys. They're just worried you'll both turn out like me." He joked good naturedly, however he was serious when he knealt down by them, "Now, I know that the two of you are intellegent and thorough so I won't ask you if you know what you're doing. I do ask that, if something happens and you feel like you're getting in too deep or you are in trouble or even just have questions, that you'll always come to me, alright? You can always count on me to be there for you. Is that understood?" He asked lightly, stroking their hair tenderly.

These were his only children. The most precious things in the world to him. He would tear the entire world apart for them.

"Yes, Daddy." They said softly with identical smiles.

Harry gave them both a hug before standing with a grin.

"Now off with you two! I think your Father is hording some strawberry ice cream behind the lamb's leg in the kitchen pantry." He whispered conspiratorially.

~o~

"I don't suppose I need to tell you what I will do to you if you betray or hurt my children." Came the hissed voice from the dark around him.

Linayel turned halfway towards the Puppet Master. Yes. Harry Potter had certainly made a name for himself in the years passed. In fact, one could even say that it was because of him that his husband won the war and became the Lord of the New Wizarding World.

"No, you do not. I am well aware of my fate should I do such a thing. Have no fear, Puppet Master, you're children will never be hurt by me or mine."

He could feel the figure nod before he knew that Potter was gone, even though he couldn't see him. He could feel the emptiness of the space the Puppeteer had just vacated as well as the absence of his stifling power.


	18. Concern

A/N: Okay, so this is the PREQUEL to an earlier prompt, POLISH. It's sort of how Voldemort came to acquire Harry.

Disclaimer: Nope!

Prompt042-Concern

The attack went just as planned. The old man didn't suspect a thing. His armies hit the castle with the force of a hurricane. One army from the front, one from the forest and one from behind to catch up any escapees. His impending victory could be celebrated later though. Right now, he had to find his injured Horcrux. The nonsense the old blind seer had spewed about soul mates could be mulled over at a later time. Voldemort could feel the boy's pain and terror and he knew that he had to rescue him. If Potter were seriously injured then his soul piece would be too, further placing himself in jeopardy. Perhaps he could place the boy in a magically induced coma and place him in a crystal coffin. He could bury him in his own empty grave beside his father's. No, he would need somewhere even more secure to put him. It was a thought. He had to protect his soul at all costs. Voldemort had not yet seen the boy in the chaos of battle, which was strange in itself. He'd expected Potter to meet him at the door and attack head on with every ounce of that Gryffindor recklessness. Neither had come. He frowned and focused on that useful little link they had between them.

~ o ~

Dumbledore felt the castle shudder and lurch beneath his feet and spared a moment for alarm. Fawkes shrieked in warning. Outside his window, on the school grounds below, stunners flew and even a few Crucios and Avada Kedavras. He hissed furiously, spinning his attention back to the bleeding and crying thing at his feet.

"Stay here. I'll deal with you later."

He sneered down at the brat in disgust before turning on his heel towards the door.

Harry lay there for some minutes, broken and bleeding. The room around him was just as ominous as it had always been. The gaping hole in his chest ached. He had-! Harry could no longer connect to his body correctly. He heard the castle, Hogwarts herself, whispering to him, beckoning him to leave that wretched room with those terrible instruments of pain and the horror inducing man. It whispered that it's child had returned to save him. That he never had to return to this place again. Harry did as she asked, using the desk to pull his wounded body to his feet.

~ o ~

Voldemort could feel Potter close by. Hogwarts gave a pleased hum at his touch on the wall. He gave an answering pulse of magic in return. The Dark Lord could feel her urging him to find the boy he sought. He could read her meaning clearly. Harry was going to die if he didn't help him soon. He stood in an intersection in the less used section of the castle with Severus at his back. He was so busy listening to Hogwarts that he almost didn't feel Severus tap his shoulder lightly. The onyx eyes were fixed on the far end of the hall where a small form walked slowly and jerkily towards them.

"Potter…?" Severus breathed in shock and horror.

And it was worth a little horror. Harry's eyes were glazed and unseeing while his breath came in odd intervals. Blood dripped in a steady flow behind him and trailed thickly from one of his eyes. He didn't seem to see them as he walked up. When he got closer, they could see the blood flow from between the boy's lips and the large, hand sized hole in his chest. He walked by like a ghost, muttering out loud. It took Voldemort a moment to realize that the teenager was speaking to the castle, just as he had been.

"No, I can't…please, I can't…Can't he just…?"

Voldemort frowned, shaking himself from the surprise. He moved quickly in front of his prize, halting him instantly. When Harry's wounded, jaded eyes met his own, he nearly flinched back from what he saw in them. Years built on years of raw, naked pain. However, Harry's eyes cleared for a moment and he seized the front of Voldemort's robe din an iron grip, suddenly, and pulled himself close to the Dark Lord.

"KILL HIM! Kill Dumbledore. Don't let him hurt me anymore…" He hissed low enough that only the two of them could hear.

Harry's grip slackened and his eyes rolled backwards in unconsciousness. If not for Voldemort's arms, he would have fallen to the floor. Severus stepped up beside him, grimacing at the state of the child's wounds. Harry was tiny already, small enough for the Dark Lord to carry him with no trouble.

"What did he say?" The potion's master asked, already digging in his bag for healing and restorative potions.

The Dark Lord held Harry in such a way that he could observe the wound in his chest. His aura was wounded as well, and only one thing could cause such a hideous injury. A Soul Penetration. An incomplete one if Harry's state was anything to judge by. Hopefully there would be some saving the teenager. If not, then Voldemort would have to place him in a suspended animation just to keep his soul alive. He helped Severus get the potions into him quickly before they were discovered.

"He asked me to kill Dumbledore. So he couldn't hurt him any longer." He confessed.

The teacher's surprise returned.

"The Headmaster did this?"

"It would seem so."

A heavy silence stretched between them, the realization a thick, daunting thing. Voldemort was disgusted by the old man's actions. To leave anyone, let alone a child who's powers were still trying to grow and therefore insufficient to aid in recovery in such a state was beyond abominable. He would do as Potter asked and then he would take him away to a place that no one could ever hurt him. It was a shame really. That the place they had both considered home for so much of their lives became the place that was the most unsafe for the small child. He looked down at Potter and brushed some of the blood away while Severus cared for the boy. Beneath all of the blood and grime, Potter really was growing into a breathtaking beauty. Hm. Maybe there was a future other than stasis for him after all.


	19. Learn

A/N: Yay! Okay, this is model!oxycondone addict!Harry. It is Edward/Harry so enjoy! This chapter is dedicated to TalaDentro, you SO rock!

Disclaimer: Nope!

Prompt041-Learn

Alice quickly dragged Jasper away as the two glared at each other angrily. Neither Harrison nor Edward noticed as their audience left. The vampire had the cantankerous teen pinned to the wall in a second, staring each other down, neither willing to back down.

"WHY do you smell like another vampire? Who is it? Who's touched you?" Edward growled furiously.

His mate was dripping with the scent of another vampire! Even if he had rejected him as his mate, Harrison couldn't just go out and sleep with another vampire! The thought that another vampire had been inside his mate drove Edward wild. Harrison railed against his captivity like a wild tiger, jerking in the steel hands that held him.

"Who I sleep with is none of you fucking business, Edward! I will NOT be your mate and I will be damned if I curb myself just because you want to bind me! I'm not going to stop doing what I've always done, just because you don't like it!" The beauty yelled furiously.

Edward, policed by his instincts, by the luciousness of Harrison's passionate eyes alight with anger and his cheeks reddened, did something that the teen he held did not expect in the least. He lunged down and kissed the unsuspecting model with all of the heat and pent in feelings that he felt when around the teen. He devoured the lips beneath him, tasting every inch of that mouth. Harrison realized rather quickly that not only was he likely not going to be able to break the hold, but maybe he didn't want to. He undoubtedly found Edward very attractive and he wouldn't mind spending the night with him and maybe more. But if the vampire thought that he was just going to roll over and be his mate then he was very very mistaken. He attacked back the lips that were above his own with fervor. He wasn't going to let anyone dominate him. He was no one's bitch. Besides. If he wanted Edward off of him, all he had to do was bite the inside of his mouth. That would send the vampire scurrying back faster than he could say 'Vogue'. A hand slipped up his shirt and dark eyes were staring down at him. The sensations that came with it were enough to scramble his careful control and shatter any sense of sane thought. He moaned and his legs wound themselves around Edward's waist as the usually controlled vampire moved against him. The hand encircled his waist, slipping up his back to bring them closer.

"Feel that, Harrison? That's what the touch of your mate can do to you. Now imagine," He whispered, licking the shell of his ear all the while, "What this would feel like if I were inside you."

Harrison had to admit that an uncontrolled Edward was definitely a turn on. He gave him a come-hither smirk. The black eyes flashed and he was carried bodily into the bedroom quickly. Good timing too because he was shaking like a crack whore on withdrawal from all of the pent in lust.

~ o ~

Edward was shifting uncomfortable in front of me, holding my hands tightly in between us. I was suddenly very aware of his entire family listening in from downstairs. It was a shame that half of them thought I was too wild for him. They were good people. I liked Esme especially but she tended to shy away from me, convinced that I would hurt her Edward or cheat on him. Rosalie didn't like me because of the drugs and because I had a history of getting around with other models. She was very outright about her dislike though. Was that what had Edward all shifty tonight? Was he worried about what his family thought of me? Of us? Would he…break up with me? I frowned, staring him in the eyes. He was nervous. I never saw Edward nervous so it must have been on his mind for some time.

"I planned us a trip to Italy. To that place you like. We'll have dinner there and then I've booked the hotel that you like."

My eyebrows shot up into my hairline, I was positive. That must have cost a fortune! My agency paid my expenses the last time I was there, so I know it wasn't cheap. Not at all and to go to a restaurant on top of that was astounding.

"Why?" I asked, my utter astonishment reflected in my eyes and tone.

He looked sheepish and embarrassed and I knew that if he could, Edward would be blushing.

"Well, I know that you're used to being able to go where ever you want and all of these high class restaurants and things…I just want to be able to give you all the things you deserve." He said, looking down at our entwined hands.

I couldn't help the absolute shock that came over me. THAT was what he had been pondering over for this long? He was self conscious about my lifestyle? I was so relieved, so shocked and so amused by his declaration that I broke into a stupid grin and started to laugh. I knew that Rosalie was probably gearing for war downstairs and judging by the embarrassed, half amused and half indignant look on Edward's face, he wasn't quite sure what to make of my amusement.

"Oh, Edward…" I giggled, pulling him close to kiss his frowning mouth, "If you never take me to Paris or out clubbing or to those stuffy parties, then that's fine! We don't have to go to fancy restaurants and you don't have to get me nice clothes. I'd be happier wearing one of your t-shirts than Prada. If it's good enough for you, then it's perfect for me. I would rather have quality time with you than quality things any day."

He grinned crookedly, leaning our foreheads together. All of that self conscious awkwardness seemed to melt out of his eyes.

"If Esme doesn't like me, then that's okay. If my dad thinks your not good enough, then he can take a flying leap. It doesn't have to be perfect all the time. I think I like it better that way in fact. I love you, Edward Cullen and that's all that matters to me."

His smile was near blinding and warmed me from head to toe. I wrapped him in my arms because I knew that this time, it was Edward who needed reassurance. He was over a century old and yet he was still a teenager in so many aspects. He was still my Edward. I kissed his head with a grin.

"So why don't you cancel those reservations, and instead, we can go to my flat for the weekend? I promise you'll love it. My mum got it for me for my fourteenth birthday and it's my favorite place to go and unwind." I buried my face in his hair lovingly, "I'd love for you to see it."

He pulled me down suddenly for a blindingly sensational kiss that had me trying to regain my bearings. His grin turned mischievous.

"So when am I going to meet your parents?"

Right in the kisser! I gave him a stoney glare to which he only laughed, pulling me in close. That was my Edward.

~ o ~

Harrison opened the door, still laughing about what Jasper had said. The figure standing on his doorstep wiped the grin off quicker than it had come.

"L-Logan?"

The nineteen year old sex god standing on his porch smirked, pushing the door open and backing Harrison back into his house. His Prussian blue eyes narrowed at the vampires sitting at the kitchen table. Edward was already on his feet, his eyes blazing at the position the unknown male was putting his mate in. Logan was taller than Harrison by a head and had dark brown hair. He did modeling but since he had come of age, he had broken out into the pornography business as well. He knew he was gorgeous and he was shameless in using it. Edward growled and Harrison didn't want to know what was going through Logan's mind. Logan didn't even spare Edward a glance but instead continued to smirk at the smaller model in front of him.

"Harrison. I heard through the grapevine that you'd gotten clean. I had to see for myself. I thought for sure that it had to be some sort of rumor. Apparently not and I must say, I think you should go back on. You're getting alittle fat off of them."

Harrison froze but his eyes were cold and furious. He heard Rosalie shoot out of her chair with a hiss. He didn't even want to know what this must look like to Esme and Carlisle. He was just starting to get them to think better of him!

"You're not welcome here, Logan. Or do I need to call the police? I'm especially friendly with the police chief here." He hissed angrily.

The smirk that crossed his face sent a cold spark of fear through Harrison's stomach, especially when Logan's tanned finger brushed tauntingly over his pale cheek.

"Oh didn't Katharynne tell you? She's been so busy, lately. Too busy to renew that nasty little restraining order. So I can touch you all I like now, baby bird."

Edward was no doubt seeing red now. Harrison was mortified at what he could be so stuck in in Logan's depraved mind that he wasn't even trying to be overprotective. For once, Harrison wished he would be.

"You can't just come here and do whatever you want! I don't belong to you and I have a life! Contrary to popular belief, the world doesn't revolve around you! Now leave!"

"Oh but you will always belong to me, Harrison. No matter how many vampires your fucking. My you have grown to be even prettier than before." He purred and at last gave Edward a smirk, "You may be clean now," Logan leaned down to whisper in his ear, backing him up against the back of the couch, "But we both know that all you'll ever be is a junkie slut. I bet your just aching for another pill, aren't you? How long has it been since you got clean? Five? Six days? Your skin is still that unhealthy pale from detox so it can't have been too long. And what about your secret stash? Did you tell you precious fuck toy about that? Or have you already taken them while he wasn't looking?"

Harrison was shaking from head to toe in fear, anger and revulsion. He looked up into Logan's smirking eyes and shoved the teen off of him wrathfully.

"Don't touch me! I don't do that anymore and I don't want anything to do with you!" He yelled.

The vampires were all either restraining themselves from attacking a human, were letting him handle his own battles or watching to see what happened next. Logan's eyes went from smirking to infuriated in half a second flat. Harrison quickly found himself shoved back into the couch painfully, his wrist in an iron grip.

"You will not attack me again. I broke your arm once Harrison and I will do it again." He growled and then twisted his hand until a crack was heard and a fiery pain lanced through Harrison's arm.

His cry of pain was enough to shake Edward from Logan's no doubt sick and demeaning thoughts and he was suddenly there, grabbing his assailant's arm just as angrily as Logan himself was. No one touched him when Edward had anything to say about it.

"That's enough!" His mate's voice was strong and domineering and Logan immediately backed off slightly though the very thought obviously incensed him even more, "You will leave now or I will rip your disgraceful throat out." His words were low and harbored no room for dissent or disagreement.

Logan glared at him hatefully but then look at the teen trying to hide his pain behind his rage and that same smirk returned. He released Harrison and straightened his jacket.

"I will be seeing you around, baby bird." He promised darkly before throwing the other inhabitants a sneer and walking out of the door.

Harrison let Carlisle look at his wrist before transfiguring a coffee cup into a wrist brace and sling stiffly. His wrist was broken. Finally, he turned around to face them all, a bright smile on his face to hide what he was really feeling.

"I'm sorry. Who's ready for dessert, hm?"

Esme's eyes were wide and Rosalie was fuming with Emmett trying to calm his wife's fury. Jasper's eyes were sad and Alice was skillfully looking elsewhere although she appeared frustrated. Edward was frowning at him and put a gentle hand on his good arm.

"Harrison, can I talk to you in the kitchen, please?" He asked softly, knowing that his family wouldn't be able to hear past the silencing charms on the kitchen that he knew Harrison kept. His boyfriend nodded, his face seemingly stuck in that odd stiff smile. Once they were alone, Harrison turned to get the cream cake out of the fridge, allowing his smile to drop at last and his lip began to quiver. He would not cry damn it! Okay, he would, he admitted as the tears began to cascade down. Tears of fear and stress overcame him silently while he placed the cake on the counter and began pulling down fresh plates. Edward turned him around softly and Harrison let him wipe the tears from his face even though more just kept coming. Finally, when his beloved pulled him close, he succumbed to sobs at last.

"He hurt you…" the vampire whispered in soft question.

Harrison nodded.

"He was the first person I ever dated and the first person I ever slept with. I dated him the longest of anyone before you. I was thirteen and thought I was in love. He just wanted to control me though. He never forced me or anything but he would hurt me, physically, mentally and emotionally. He always told me how fat I was and how I had no right to have my career. He knew how to hurt and not leave bruises. When he broke my arm, Draco helped me decide that enough was enough and I got a restraining order filed against him. He was furious but they didn't let him anywhere near me." He whispered as Edward rubbed his back gently.

Golden eyes looked into his own and he was given a chaste kiss full of affection.

"I will tear his arms off before I let him anywhere near you. I promise. Wizard or no, he will not hurt you again. Call K and tell her what happened after dinner, alright? She can get the restraining order reassigned again as soon as possible." He said with a small comforting smile before picking up the cake and plates and allowing Harrison to compose himself before joining everyone.


	20. Bright

A/n: Okie dokie! Another day, another amazing story! It's Edarry! It's postWar with Necromancer!Harry. ^_^

Disclaimer: Nope!

Prompt004- Bright

Jamie Evans stepped out of his new house, into his new yard, in this new town, into his new life. And sighed. His breath fogged in the cool crisp cemetery air, the soft air moving straight through the transparent figure in front of him. His companion grinned good naturedly.

"Well, it's a good spot, Jamie. Plenty of privacy and graves. It's rather pretty here too." Fred said with a smile, stretching his arms over his head unnecessarily.

Jamie gave the red headed ghost a smile. Fred had been with his ever since he could remember. That was his life though. He attracted every sort of dead. Such was the fate of a necromancer, or at least that's what Fred told him. His companion had helped him learn everything so far. Unfortunately, control was something you had to learn on your own. He pushed those thoughts aside and turned instead to the delightful trip he was making today, just a few blocks down.

He had moved to Forks, Washington just a few days ago from St. Louis and so far, he was basking in the clean, fresh air of the west coast. Just a few miles in the other direction and you would hit the ocean. Beautiful. It had been a stroke of pure luck that he had found a home so suited to his…unusual needs. His home had last been a funeral home and looked out on the oldest cemetery in the area

. Now, he was going to his new job, a business he had started himself. The Fresh Start Bakery was a small but cozy building that he had bought and established as soon as he arrived in town. Today was opening day and he was arriving hours ahead of time to get the baking done. He prided himself on having fresh baked things every day to give his customers. The arrival of a new business in Forks had cause quite a stir in the small town.

It took only minutes to get to the store and unlock. Jamie was once again glad that he had all of the necessary ingredients on hand and had left the bread dough to rise last night. Fred hovered around the spacious kitchen with a pleased air while he went about preheating his two double ovens and pulling out bowls. He opened the screened window to help filter the soon to be otherwise stifling heat from the ovens.

First, he would put the breads in since they took the longest. White, wheat and an asiago bread that was great for lunches and things. Then he would bake the muffins, and after the pies, cobblers and cakes. Finally, would come a jubilee of different cookies. Life could not get better than the feel of flour under his palms, the sweet smell of vanilla and the taste of a piping hot cookie on his tongue. He was awkward around people, but in the kitchen, he knew every grain of salt, every measuring cup and every pan down to the last teaspoon.

His emerald eyes closed in absolute bliss as he gave himself over to the music from his stereo, the smoothness of a brand new knife and the soft dough giving way under his hand. The coffee maker in the corner beeped on and the smell of brewing coffee joined the fray. This was heaven. Perhaps he would order an industrial coffee maker and sell coffee as well? It sounded like a grand idea. He hadn't seen a single coffee shop in Forks yet, so it would definitely sell.

Jamie smiled brightly as he imagined the smiles on peoples faces as they got their hot homemade sticky bun and coffee in the morning or a mother come in to buy her child a birthday cake. That's what made his job so rewarding. Because he got to see their faces as they enjoyed their goodies. He knew that his work was appreciated and enjoyed. Finally, at nine in the morning, he was dusting off his apron and opening the store at last.

~ o ~

"You had a pretty good turnout today! I bet it'll be just as good tomorrow and that lady you talked to even gave you a flier for the fair!" Fred chatted happily as he cleaned up after making the dough for the next day.

"Yeah, I can't wait until I actually have regulars! I'm so excited! I'm not sure if I'll go to the fair though." Jamie said, putting the lids on the bowls and sliding them into the industrial refrigerator.

Fred sputtered crossly, folding his arms across his chest. It made for an amusing sight to see him hovering scoldingly in the air.

"Why not? It would be a great opportunity for you to meet some of your upcoming classmates and besides, it'll have vendors and games! It'll be fun!" The ghost insisted.

Jamie laughed, finally giving in agreeing.

"Alright, alright, oh scary one! I bow to thyne will!" The teen teased, earning a roll of eyes from his companion.

He shivered, closing the window. There was a tingling pressure building beneath his skin, in his blood it seemed. How long had it been? Two days? Three since he had last raised? Fred seemed to sense his plight for he frowned.

"Time to go. Come on."

They made it home quickly and Jamie picked a grave well away from sight of the road as he parked his modest car in the car port that had once housed hearses. It took only moments to find his way to the chosen grave. He stood above it and let out a calming breath. Holding his hand out, he began to call, his eyes deepening to an emerald so dark it looked black in the darkening sky. As the sun faded past the horizon, he called to the body beneath the ground.

"I call you, Obediah Davenport. I call you from your rest. Hear me Obediah Davenport and answer my call." He whispered.

Being loud was unnecessary and made him self conscious. The magic brought forth by the words was enough to focus the needling power simmering beneath his flesh. It flowed immediately from him, from his body, into the corpse in the ground. He could feel as the body 'woke up', a release of the building pressure that plagued him every moment of his life. Ignoring his power was not an option.

If he didn't release it, it found outlets of it's own, usually in the form of a parade of road kill or even the odd half formed corpse wandering it's way to him, raised by his lashing out magic. Obediah rose from the ground like a swimmer breaking the surface and as his body reformed, Jamie smiled at him. Like he said, he was awkward around people. All he really understood was the kitchen and the dead. The man stared at him, clearing his throat of grave dust curiously.

"Well, well, what's this? A visitor!" The man said gruffly but pleasantly, his six foot something towering over Jamie's own 5'4'' but not in a menacing way.

He nearly sighed in relief. He hated when he raised the rude ones. Some were grouchy from being woken, others were just unpleasant people to begin with. At least Obediah wasn't going to be unpleasant. Jamie sat at the graveside with a smile, settling in for a long bought of conversation. The dead were certainly a chatty bunch, that was for sure.

~ o ~

Jamie rolled his eyes at his friend's urgings. Fred was rushing him out the door with a backpack of snacks and a map of the town. He'd seen street fairs once or twice in the various cities he had lived in, so he was curious to see what it would be like in Forks. He had closed the Bakery today to go to the fair. They drove their way to the main thoroughfare slowly, parking a little ways off from everyone else. He didn't want to attract too much attention after all. Unfortunately, he didn't realize what a hot commodity new faces were in Forks. The moment he stepped out of his Pacifica, heads turned and whispers began. Apparently, most of the town already knew of him. It was daunting at first but then he perked up. Remembering that the more people knew of him, the more attention his bakery would receive!

That thought made him grin and continue down the busy street happily, ignoring his discomfort and Fred's silent grumblings as the phantom floated after him, glaring at anyone who happened to walk through him. There was so many interesting things! On one side was an older woman sitting at a booth selling pickled fruits, vegetables and home made jellies. He would definitely have to get a jar of blackberry on his way back through. In the booth next to her was a woman selling hand made rugs, napkins and handkerchiefs. There was a booth for clothes and home made scarves and hats, a booth for jewelry, a booth for perfumes and make ups, as well as a booth for clocks, wall pieces and other household decorations. Jamie was stopped at the funnel cake stand getting one of the fried treats. He had the stand sporting different flavored coffees in sight already.

He had finished his funnel cake and was carrying three bags of coffees, a jar each of raspberry and blackberry jam and a wearing a hand sewn black and white striped winter beanie when he saw it. It was small, barely squashed in between a hot dog stand and an obnoxious booth with baseball caps and sunglasses, not that anyone would need them in Forks. It was a fortune tellers booth. The booth was actually operated out of the back of a shabby looking RV that looked as if it had seen more days on the road than even he had.

The woman sitting behind the stand also looked as if she had spent many rough seasons traveling. She had a wizened but somehow exotic and outlandish in her sense. She was watching those who walked by with a sharp eye like she expected one of them to pull a fast one on her. She was of a dark complexion, stout and firm beneath her worn shawl. Her skin was tanned to the point of almost a leathery consistency but her beetle black eyes were shiny and as aware as ever. She was enjoying the comforts of a loaf of brown bread, finishing up when he approached. She gave him a once over that he was far too used to to be bothered by. She nodded lightly to herself and Jamie could have sworn those black eyes flicked to the ghost following him around before she sat up in her seat and bade him to sit on the chair that had been positioned behind the booth beside her. The deck set out before her was ancient and warm.

"You want fortune?" She asked, her voice thick with her accent.

She was perhaps Romanian or something of that flavor. Exotic.

"Yes please." He replied politely.

He always respected his elders. Always. She gestured to the small board beside her that advertised the prices of her wares. After paying for it, she began her reading, placing three cards face down on the table. She turned each over in turn, her eyebrows knitting together in confusion before widening. She shot out of her seat with a limberness that was surprising for her age and crossed herself. She began talking quickly in a rapid language that he couldn't understand. When he just shook his head in confusion, she switched to English. Her voice was fearful and harried as she gathered up her things, throwing them back into the RV.

"I can't. I can't give you fortune. Please go."

Jamie looked down at the three cards laying on the table but aside from pretty pictures, them meant nothing to him. He looked up at her feeling slightly hurt. They had began to gather a few stares.

"Did I do something wrong?" He asked timidly but she only paused, shaking her slowly and sadly.

"No…I can't read. Please go." She said softly before retreating into her RV.

Fred tugged on his sleeve lightly. Jamie was stock still. Why couldn't he just be…

"Come on, Jamie…" His ghost friend whispered.

He stood shakily and tried to make as quick of a get away as possible. Unfortunately, he tried to make his get away right into a rock solid body. Before he could fall, a pair of arms caught him quickly. A scent hit him so suddenly it was more jarring than actually hitting the person. He didn't know how he knew but it was unmistakable.

"Vampire" He whispered and the arms tensed.

He looked up to find the face of an Adonis staring down at him. Topaz eyes were frowning from beneath honey brown hair. A gasp from beside them alerted him that they had an audience. Fred was spitting mad.

"Let him GO!" The ghost raged and much to Jamie's surprise, the vampire that held him jerked up to stare right back at the spirit.

"Oh dear…" Said a lovely woman from their side who Jamie knew was a member of the strange vampire's coven.

~ o ~

His power lashed out defensively, grabbing hold of the nearest thing while he lay hurt, confused and disorientated on the ground. It responded to his mental state by lashing out in order to protect it's host. Unfortunately, that nearest thing happened to be Jasper Cullen. He could hear shouting and screaming through the rushing and the confusion but none of it made sense. When he finally came to, Jasper was laying stock still and stiff as a board on the ground nearby, staring sightlessly at the ceiling and Fred was hovering above Jamie, shaking his shoulders fearfully. All of the Cullens were gathered around them and he was suddenly jerked up from Fred's grasp by his collar by a terrified and angry Edward.

"What did you do to him? What did you do, Jamie?" He yelled, ignoring Esme's pleas for him to let Jamie go and Fred's threats.

Alice was holding Jasper's unresponsive hand, her face morphed into a mask of terror and anguish. Jamie, jerked away from Edward, falling to the ground bonelessly. He snapped his powers back inside him violently before flexing it just enough to put Jasper back into sorts. He blinked and the frowned before sitting up, much to his family's relief. They were all sending Jamie fearful and tense looks, except for Edward. Edward just looked betrayed. The necromancer just curled in on himself, his chest filling with self loathing and despair. Edward would never love him now. He hated him. Jamie apparated away immediately, not caring where he went as long as it was away from Forks and it's vampires.


	21. Burn

A/N: Yay! This is actually a Harry/OC with implied HP/LV, so enjoy! SHAMELESS SLASH!

Disclaimer: Nope!

Prompt043-Burn

The hot water poured down on them in the silence of the shower. Jesse was supporting all of the 100 pounds of tiny boy in his arms. His boxers were plastered wettly to his body. Harry sighed with a small smile. Jesse was such a good friend. He was always taking care of him. The vampire was occupied with slowly rinsing the shampoo from Harry's black hair.

"This has to stop Harry." Jesse said calmly.

He sighed, looking down over the damage from the latest beating. More bruises and cuts marred his torso and hips. The bruises were a sickly black color and were a sharp contrast with his malnourished pale skin. What had he ever done to deserve the hate his relatives held for him? The reminder of it all brought a shiver from his thin body and the ever present darkness back to his eyes. He was very surprised that he hadn't broken something this time.

"I know but...don't hurt them, ok?"

Jesse glared at him but not because he was angry with him. He was just so frustrated by Harry's willingness to let bad people off the hook. He just wasn't an aggressive person. He would let people do whatever they wanted to him and every time, he would find a way to justify it to himself. Jesse's skin was so pale but it was perfect. Flawless. Thinking of it made him feel freakish and want to hide himself. One of those careful, loving hands stroked his head, getting the last of the shampoo out. Should he tell him? Jesse took such good care of him...He could trust him not to laugh.

Jesse wanted to groan. He had wet dreams about these times. He was constantly forcing himself not to grow hard. Think of something else. Think of anything else. Something other than Harry's lovely body pressed against him, wet and comfortable. If it were a different time and place, Jesse would push him against the shower wall and ravish him. Harry was, after all, his. His mate. He had already claimed him. Not officially, of course, because that would involve sex and, that, his little love was not yet ready for. But every breath the green eyed vixen took sighed against his collar bone, driving him absolutely wild. Jesse swallowed hard, hoping that Harry didn't notice.

"Jesse...? I've been having these dreams...Odd ones." Harry whispered, nuzzling his neck.

Too cute. He was so innocent. So dependant on him for affection.

"Really?"

"Yes. There is this man with red eyes. He tells me that he is going to come and save me from the Dursleys and Dumbledore and everyone. And then we..." He stopped, a crimson blush staining his cheeks, a frown settling between his eyebrows.

Jesse didn't need anymore hint than that. Harry was having those kinds of dreams about another man...? He could feel his eyes turn red from barely concealed anger.

"Jesse? Your not mad at me are you?" The dejection and hurt in Harry's voice made his eyes change back to their original silver color.

His arms traced their way around the thin frame against him and he shook his head. He wasn't mad. But he had an idea who the red eyed man was even if Harry didn't and he would be thrice damned before he let HIM have his mate! Harry may have not been aware of his connection to the Dark Lord but he and his sire had seen it for what it was immediately.

"C'mon. Let's get ready for bed."

~O~

Two pairs of dry boxers later, they were both snuggled warmly in Jesse's bed. Harry had burrowed his way into the vampire's arms, ending up with his whole body flush against poor Jesse's. The heir of the Levesque clan would often just watch Harry long after he fell asleep, just wondering at the beauty and frailty in his arms. Harry had been asleep for only half and hour when he made the first whimper.

' A hot tongue trailed it's way up his neck. Hands gripped his young thighs tightly. It hurt alittle but it was a pain laced with pleasure. He wanted those hands on him. Harry gave a low keening, begging noise. The person above him smirked and he could see them now. The red eyes. They gazed at him and he was not afraid but captivated. Entranced as if under some powerful spell that he couldn't even begin to muster the desire to break. But desire was there. Something hot and heavy lay against his stomach and he reached down to touch it. The thing was soft to the touch but hard, pulsating. The man shivered.

'Your going to undo me, pet, if you do that too much. Not that I will complain much.'

The sibilant hisses tightened things low in his body instantly and one of the sinful hands slid between them to caress and massage his quickly growing body. He whimpered and his dream-lover increased the friction. Harry ran his nails down the pale back above him, unable to restrain the sounds of his pleasure. The long thing on his stomach twitched and burned and the man let out a harsh hiss when his young hand moved up and down it's length.

'Tell me...Tell me and I will give you more than you can imagine...' He whispered hotly in Harry's ear.

He bucked up to meet the hand but his hips were quickly restrained. No! More! Not less! Tell him what? What did he need to know? What? He wanted to scream the question but words wouldn't form all of the sudden. Harry tried to plead with his eyes but to no avail.

'Tell me...'

It was the last thing he heard before he was jerked back rudely into consciousness.

~ o ~

Jesse couldn't take it. Harry, his future mate, was laying in his arms, trapped in the throws of an intense dream, writhing against him. It was enough to undo any hot blooded gay male. He just wished it was himself that his love was dreaming about. Harry gave a particularly violent grind and Jesse dug his nails into his arms deep enough to draw blood in an effort not to touch the boy. Or himself. He was hard as a rock and the way they were laying, he was situated right at Harry's back. A delicious, irresistible smell overwhelmed him and his vampire blood raced. The beast in him responded to Harry's arousal with some of it's own. He had never been more excited in his life. 90 years worth of life. Then again, his mate had never been grinding against his happy parts either. Harry jerked up in bed, sweat pouring down his body. Bandages were all over him. Jesse fell deathly still. His eyes had bled to red with the awakening of his beast.

"Jesse!" He cried, curling around himself.

This was very obviously a new problem for his virginal friend. Jesse doubted that Harry had ever even touched himself. He was too naive for that. He quickly forced his hunger down, only to rub circles on the distressed teen's back. Harry gasped at the touch on his overly sensitive skin. It took quite some time for Jesse to be able to finally summon his voice.

"Harry...are you alright...?"

The dark haired boy was hiding his face in his hands and he gently forced him to look up. Harry's face was completely red. With his eyes wide and little pants coming out of his slightly parted lips he was a sight that even angels would become rapists at. His beast wanted him to claim his mate. It whispered seductively in his mind.

'Mate him. Mark him. Mine! Soothe. Demand his submission.'

"I feel...like I'm about to blow up...Incomplete. Like something should have happened and it didn't. I don't like it...Make it go away Jesse...Please..."

That just flat out did it for him. The last please, Harry begging and practically in his lap, just did it. Jesse purred low in his throat and Harry caught the sound. He could see something instinctual click into place in his friend. He had been slipping Harry vampire blood for half a year now. He had gained the instincts of one of them. Blood from both himself and his sire.

"Do you trust me, Harry...?" He whispered, his voice husky but still containing that mesmerizing purr.

He nodded, looking up at the crimson eyes with a devotion that surpassed any he had ever seen in someone. He did trust him. Very much so. A slight hand touched his leg and Jesse pulled Harry into his lap. Before the tiny gasp could make it out of his mouth, Jesse's lips were on his. It was almost like something else took over his mind and actions but Harry certainly wasn't complaining. He found himself flat on the bed with a century of horny vampire above him. It seemed as if every nerve ending was on fire. The hands roaming his body were very attentive to the sensitive spots. A tongue licked over his collar bone before he was kissed possessively again. Harry could feel a dainty pair of fangs in the wicked mouth. He kind of...liked it. It was arousing when they traced along his tongue drawing small drops of blood here and there.

Jesse's hands had reached his boxers and slowly slipped inside. His fingertips trailed along the delicate, dancer like hips and a groan escaped him. Harry whispered his name in desperation, arching upwards for more contact. Without warning, Jesse wrapped his hand around his body, drawing a cry from his mate that rocked him. He moved the hand gently, at first, and then faster at Harry's pleading insistence. He was in Heaven. Every time his hand moved, Harry thrust upward. Since he currently had his knee in between his friend's legs, the virgin's thigh rocked against his groin. It was a torturous, never ending cycle. Harry's breaths were coming harder and faster now and Jesse knew that they were both nearly done.

" Harry, please... Let me feed..." He pleaded and the other boy nodded jerkily.

With a groan, Jesse lunged forward, biting the exposed neck. Harry's pulse was like a trapped bird. He tasted so good. Like sweetness. Or orgasm. A few short strokes later and his tiny partner had spilled all over his hand and on his bruised stomach. It was only a moment later Jesse followed. He carefully drew his fangs from Harry's neck. The green eyes were glazed over with post-orgasm haze. The bite oozed a drop of blood before his saliva sealed it completely. It was a gorgeous sight to behold, one he would surely dream about for some time after. Sometime in the heated passion, their hands had become entwined with each other. He leaned down to kiss the sweaty, flushed cheek with a smile.

"Does this mean that we are...lovers? Boyfriends? Friends with benefits? Does it mean anything?" Harry asked and allowed himself to be covered once again, nestled snug in the safety of Jesse's embrace.

"What do you want it to mean? I'm not averse to any of those choices."

"Mmmmm...boyfriends?" He said it like a question making the older boy chuckle against his neck.

"How about mates?"

The question was whispered against Harry's neck where the bite rested. He could instantly feel the tension spike in his young lover and understandably so. If they truly became mates, Harry would live forever and he would have to come live with him permanently. He wouldn't be able to go back to school or see his wretched family.

"I don't know if I'm ready for that yet Jesse...I'm sorry..." His voice truly was regretful and he was just so damned cute!

"It's alright, Harry. Boyfriends then. And you know I can't let you go back to your relative's home. I will have your things brought but I won't let you go back."

Harry blushed again but a small smile crept into the corners of his mouth. However, something in his mind screamed against it all. Demanded that he go back and wait because the red eyed man would come for him and he needed to be there. He bit down on his lip, making his new boyfriend frown. Jesse slipped into his mind and read the hesitancy. Damn that cheeky Lord Voldemort! Despite the hesitancy, Harry said nothing but snuggled deeper against him and closed his eyes for sleep. Jesse inwardly sighed. He needed to talk to Pere about this.

{}~~^~~v~~~^~~

His Pere looked at him incredulously.

"You did what?"

Jesse stared him down, unwilling to release his end of the discussion. He knew that he had done what was right.

"I claimed Harry. He is not ready to be true mates yet but I know he will get better. I told him he has to come live with us, but he's so stubborn!" He growled, not at all mad at the boy sleeping up in his room.

His Father raised an amused eyebrow.

"Oh? And why is that, my ever dutiful child?" Kristophe asked, clipping the ends off of some roses he had rescued from the storm outside.

His auburn hair was gathered at the base of his neck as it had been since Jesse had first met Kristophe all those decades ago. He frowned at his Father. He was always coming up with random names and terms to call him by.

"Because that damned Dark Lord! He's been sending Harry dreams through that link of theirs, telling him that he's going to come for him soon. Harry is determined to wait for him! Can you believe it?" He fumed, huffing, before finding himself plopped into a chair.

Pere smiled. His childe was so funny sometimes. So protective.

"Oh, yes. I can believe it. Your little one has never had anyone before, Jesse. No one to relate to or even to care about his sad but untimely predicament. Then this new person appears that wants to save him from all of it. Even if it meant that you would have to sacrifice some things that you love, wouldn't you wish for something better?"

~ o ~

Harry lay in his bed at the Dursley's, waiting as he had been for three days for the mysterious man to come for him. He tossed in his bed, aching for sleep and relief from the burning fever that coursed through him. A body wracking cough shook his frail form and he gripped his throat painfully. It seemed like his whole body was writhing in agony and sickness. He wished Jesse was with him. He reached over to his side table weakly, groping for the cell phone that his boyfriend had bought him months ago. He had Jesse on speed dial. His hand shook violently as he raised it to his ear.

"Harry?" The vampire answered lightly, confused as to why he would be calling at two in the morning.

"Jesse..." His voice sounded like he was speaking through gravel and he could hear the tension suddenly in the other teen's voice.

"Harry? Are you okay? What's wrong?"

His voice sounded concerned and almost frantic. Harry never got sick after all.

"I don't...feel so good." He gasped painfully, agony shooting through his cough abused and sore throat, "Will you...?"

"I'll be right there. Don't move and stay in bed." Jesse demanded before he clicked the phone off and began his rush over.

Harry sighed, gripping his head against the pain that was flaring up inside his skull. A dreadful moan escaped his throat at the agony. When Jesse arrived five minutes later, thank Merlin for vampiric speed!, he literally sobbed in relief. His boyfriend rushed over to him after scaling the outside wall into his window. He reached up towards him, wrapping his fevered body around Jesse's cool figure.

"Heavens, Harry, you're burning up! How long have you been like this?" Jesse asked, fretting over him anxiously.

"Started...when I left your place..."

"That was three days ago!"

Jesse growled and wrapped him up in the threadbare blanket, pausing to instead remove his jacket and wrap it around him beneath the scratchy, unforgiving worn material. He cradled Harry in his arms and jumped out of the open window.

~ o ~

His father was looking over Harry now. They had a big problem. Apparently, the vampire blood that he had been slipping Harry was conflicting with his humanity and reeking havoc on his body. They may just have to turn him to save his life. That or...He growled at the very thought of asking the Dark Bastard for help. That- That mate stealer! He scoffed at himself. Oh Merlin, he was so NOT pouting. Okay, maybe just a little. But what was he supposed to do? His mate was attracted to that jerk off! A knock came at his door and he walked distractedly to answer it. He jerked the door open irritably. Unfortunately the source of his irritation was standing behind he door with a cocky smirk on his stupid face.

"I think you have something that belongs to me, little prince." The Dark Lord purred silkily.


	22. Want

A/N: Another dead Harry story! It's abit of HP/SS and implied HP/LV.

Disclaimer: Nope.

Prompt008-Want

I never thought I'd die alone, Another six months I'll be unknown

Give all my things to my friends, You'll never set foot in my room again

You'll close it off, board it up, Remember the time I spilled the cup

Of apple juice in the hall, Please tell mom this is not her fault

I never conquered, rarely came

16 just held such better days. Days when I still felt alive

We couldn't wait to get outside. The world was wide, too late to try

The tour was over, We'd survived

I couldn't wait til I got home, To pass the time in my room alone

-Adam's Song, Blink 182

Harry observed his rail thin body in the bathroom mirror, never understanding why he had to be so…unsatisfying. It had been so long since he had felt like Harry. Just Harry. Why couldn't he just be happy like all of the other normal teenagers? Why couldn't he just be the way he wanted himself to be? He had worked tirelessly to be as thin as the others. He had even surpassed them, a fact that brought him much pleasure but ultimately had not resulted in success in getting HIS attention. He had excelled in his studies, only to be knocked down with just a single word. What else was there for him to do? He rarely slept for studying so hard. Never ate for he wanted to be the thinnest so he could gain his attention. Harry shakily took his glasses off of his face, staring at his too thin cheek bones. He wasn't going to make next year. Madame Pomfrey had told him that much. He wasn't worried about her telling the Headmaster. No. He had made her swear a Wizarding Oath to never breathe a word of his condition. He didn't care. As long as he could get just one approving glance from him. That's all he wanted. He just wanted those dark eyes to smile on him for a single moment the way they did for Draco. What was it? What was it that he was failing so miserably at that he wouldn't even give him the time of day? Harry shut his dulled emerald eyes wearily, letting his hated glasses fall to the ground.

He hated this… This whole stupid mess called life. What was the point anymore? There wasn't one. There wasn't a single one except for him. He would be dead by next year anyways. His heart was too weak and he couldn't let himself get fat again. Why not help the process along? What did it matter anymore? Myrtle, spying on him from a nearby toilet gasped out loud when she saw the potions making knife that he pulled from his pocket and pressed to his right wrist. She zoomed off through the wall. Probably to tell a teacher. Sneak. She's a sneak. Harry grinned wryly.. It would be too late though. They would never make it in time. They were months too late. He drug the knife deep down the length of his forearm, captivated at once by the shock of crimson that burst from his flesh like a piece of too ripe fruit. It only took a moment for him to start on the other arm, a bright cheery smile growing on his face. That was when the door burst open and HE stepped through. The object of his attentions and the breaker of his heart. Harry's eyes softened and yet hardened all in the same moment before he flashed that dazzling smile once more.

"Potter, what in the bloody name of Merlin are you doing to yourself?" Professor Snape hissed, rushing over but he halted his progress when Harry removed the knife from his forearm to place it threateningly at his neck.

"Don't take a step closer, Professor. If you do, I will plunge this thing so far in my neck that you'll be able to see it through the other side." The teen said with that still smiling expression that had not moved once.

Snape looked disgusted and yet disturbed. The warring expressions hurt something deep in him. He had fallen for this cruel stoic, beautiful man and he had cast his heart aside as if it were nothing.

"You need help, Potter. Put the knife down. You're bleeding out. If you put it down now, I'm sure that they have a special place for you. With padded walls and nice white jackets."

Harry hissed furiously, finishing the line up his arm all the while glaring at his professor. The man he loved.

"You would like that wouldn't you, professor? If they just sent me away? You hate me anyways. Why in all of this big world would it matter to whether I lived or died? It really doesn't. You don't care at all. You just want to keep both of your masters happy," Snape frowned deeply at this statement, "Well, Let me make this really easy on everyone involved. Here is my response to that bloody prophesy. I quit. I hate all of them. Fickle fucking backstabbers. They can save their own sorry asses because I won't." He said with a venomous glare that faded quickly to a sad, despairing expression.

He smiled ever so slightly.

"But I never hated you…Never…Not when you cursed me and tormented me. Not once did I ever think ill of you, professor. I…daresay I thought…softly…of you...So, may Death take me…And treat me better than…this world did…And you…I'm just glad that it was you…who was here with me…when I died…"Harry whispered as his vision darkened quickly with the ever growing pool of blood that crept across the floor.

Dumbledore burst into the room, breaking Snape from his shock induced trance. The old man hurried over to him just in time to see the light fade from the emerald eyes forever. He didn't hear his teachers calling his name or Fawkes cooing the hopelessness of the situation. He was dead. Harry Potter was dead and for once in his life, he was happy. Well. For a short time at least.

~ o ~

Harry felt the moment he died as a sucking feeling and then a jarring halt. He fell to the floor of the bathroom, not registering pain at all. He could see the stricken expression on Severus's face and Dumbledore shaking him, trying to get him to wake. It was no good though. He no longer resided there in that shell of a body. So…why had he not passed on? Why was he trapped on earth? Myrtle was staring down at him like he was something she had certainly not expected to see. Her gasp and stare was not gone unnoticed by Severus. The potion's master whirled around to look at her, trying not to see the sight of Harry Potter's lifeless body in the Headmaster's arms.

"Myrtle?" He asked suspiciously, but he did not see Harry's transparent form.

The teen noted that Severus couldn't see him AT ALL in fact. But Myrtle could. She pointed at him with her mouth hanging open in shock. The man seemed to grasp the situation for he stared hard at where she was pointing. Harry stood, hovering over to the man he had adored so passionately in life and even now in death. He took the time to graze his ghostly fingers over the pale cheek before disappearing. He didn't see the potion's master shiver with cold as he left.

~ o ~

Voldemort felt the very moment that Harry Potter died. He just finished with dinner and enjoying the lovely sensations of a faceless woman's head in his lap when it happened. She finished his entertainment and he sent her away quickly, wanting to get to the bottom of this phenomenon soon. Harry Potter was dead. So what now? He called Lucius quickly. He knew that Harry was a Horcrux. He also knew that the boy was not truly dead. No. He had not felt the severing of their connection when he died. He had just suddenly…known. So the boy had to be disembodied somewhere. If he knew ghosts, and he did having been one once, they preferred to haunt places they had spent a lot of time in during life or places that they loved. Something was telling the Dark Lord that the boy wonder was no longer at Hogwarts though. He quickly assembled a list of places Potter would have gone, based on what he knew of the boy's life. When Lucius arrived, he sent him to do what he trusted no one else to. Find the ghost of Harry Potter.

~ o ~

He wasn't sure how long he had been sitting there in front of his parent's graves. Hours? Days? Time seemed irrelevant. He was dead now, what did he care? He hadn't expected anyone to come looking for him. Last he had checked, he wasn't strong enough a ghost for anyone to even see him so it came as quite a surprise when, as he sat curled in front of the headstones in Godric's Hollow, Lucius Malfoy of all people came and sat next to him. The man seemed quiet and considering. Why was he here?

"I've been looking for you all day. You gave my Lord quite the scare, you know."

Harry looked over at him in interest.

"You can see me? How?" He asked and finally turned his full attention to the man.

" You aren't invisible anymore, Harry." Lucius said and he knew that the words meant more than what they seemed to on the outside.

He teared up, the crystalline phantom drops threatening to fall. He wasn't invisible anymore…Lucius was saying that, not only was he physically visible now, but someone was looking over him. Someone special. If only it was Severus…He turned back to the graves so the man wouldn't see his tears.

"I just wanted to join them…I just wanted to not hurt anymore."

Before he knew it, Harry had burst into tears, shamelessly crying out his misery. Why would Fate not release him? Why couldn't she just let him go and pass? Why couldn't he just die in peace, the rest of the world be damned?

"I understand, Harry. And my Lord understands too. Won't you come see him? He has been waiting for you desperately." The blond asked gently, standing as if to signal his intentions to lead him away.

Harry bit his lip thoughtfully. He had said that he would not save the fickle idiots of the Light any more. He had made his decision. What did he have to lose anyways? He was dead after all. Nothing could physically hurt him any more. It was almost a refreshing thought. No more pain or hunger. No more beatings. The Dursley's would probably rejoice once they heard of his death. It wouldn't surprise him. Maybe he would go and haunt them for a bit. Cause them some terror just as they had caused him. He nodded to Lucius and followed the man away. He was going to see Voldemort. What a day.

They arrived in what looked like a cross between a study and a library. It was an enormous room but one that Harry took a liking to immediately. It hummed and throbbed with magic all around him and it smelled of books and ink. Standing some feet away, reading a book in an armchair, sat Lord Voldemort. The man was obviously vain because he looked like a young Tom Riddle but who was Harry to judge? He was dead. Nothing like death to get your priorities straight. He showed himself, fading into sight beside Lucius. The blonde bowed quickly and he stood, discarding his book immediately. He made a tsking sound before raising those crimson eyes to Harry's own emerald.

"Suicide, Harry? That is unlike you." He said simply, gesturing to him to come further into the room.

Lucius made himself at home. Harry was actually surprised that the man didn't get crucioed for his insolence. Voldemort obviously caught the confusion because he chuckled, pouring Lucius a glass of wine from a decanter on the side table a few feet away.

"Harry, Lucius is my trusted advisor and my General. He is welcome here as if it were his own home. There is no need for formalities between us. It is the reason I trusted him of all people to send for you."

Harry tilted his head to the side, approaching the men cautiously. Despite being nothing but a mere spirit, he was still not stupid.

"Why am I still here?"

~ o ~

Severus Snape had never been one to drink much, but there he was for the second time that day, drinking himself stupid. He had killed Harry Potter. No matter that he had not made the cuts himself, it was he that had pushed the boy to it. And he didn't blame him. To be rejected by someone you loved, even if Potter only had a childhood crush, it was a blow that could scar.

Severus took another swig of whiskey from his glass, thinking back to the events of the day. Lucius had broken up with him to get with his son, and then he had been the cause of the death of an innocent boy. He was dirt. He was lower than dirt. He was compost. He had treated Harry with such loathing when in fact the boy was in love him, silently suffering. Until it had been too much to bare.

Harry Potter was the one person, it turned out, that could give him the one thing he wanted above all else; a person of unwavering love and faithfulness. No matter that he was a student. No matter that they were on opposite sides of the war. And now the boy was dead and it was all his fault. Just like Lily…

~ o ~

Voldemort sighed and gestured Harry closer. The boy complied easily and settled on the floor in the curled position that Lucius had found him in at the gravesite. Strangely enough, the blonde sat on the floor next to him in a weird show of friendship and support. Strange. He never expected the cold man he saw in public to be so… understanding in private. Harry supposed everyone had their different faces. He glanced at the Dark Lord. He knew Voldemort did.

"You are still here, Harry, because you hold one of my eight soul pieces inside you. You have to die like a Horcrux. You are essentially a ghost. Just as I was when I was hit with the killing curse all those years ago." Voldemort began.

He nodded in understanding.

"Seeing it how it is, considering you are now dead anyways, I would like you to stay here so I can better protect you this time around. I take it that's okay with you since you came quite willingly."

"Yes…" Harry whispered lightly, starting to lose his image with his depression.

Lucius waved his hand in front of his face, snapping him back to attention. He faded back into sight.

"So, I will show you where you are staying then. Lucius, your son is waiting for you in your rooms. Something about important information. I imagine he's here to inform you of Harry's death." Voldemort said with an extra grin.

It seemed they knew something that Harry didn't for he just ignored the exchange and followed the man down the hallways. The manor, from what he could see from his small journey, was a well lit, tastefully decorated place with silver and a deep navy blue in the halls. The rooms that he could see were done in blacks, greens and more silver accents and despite the Slytherin colors, Harry found himself liking it a lot.

He could get used to haunting this place. They stopped at a room not far from the library and up some stairs a ways. The door had a picture of a sleeping serpent on it, the body green with a silver mottled pattern running down the back. It blinked silver eyes down at him as they approached.

"Your room is sealed with Parsletongue. No one but me, you and your guests may come in here. Just say 'Open' and it will allow you entrance."

With that small statement, Voldemort opened the door and allowed Harry the first glimpse of his new home. It was lovely. It was a cozy deep emerald and the canopy bed looked like a dream in itself. There was a small writing desk against the wall and a huge window covered in black out curtains. It stole his breath away.

While he was ogling the room, HIS room, Voldemort stepped further inside, shutting the door behind him. At the foot of the bed, he had had Harry's things placed. His owl's empty cage sat on the writing desk. She had been out hunting when he had died after all. He wondered for a moment if he would ever see Hedwig again.

"It's gorgeous…" He whispered, letting Voldemort hear the gratitude in his voice.

The man's silence made Harry turn around to see what was keeping his response. The crimson eyes were boring into his own and he gasped at the pressure and heat they exuded. He was glad that he was a ghost because he would have been blushing if he had a body.

"Harry…Why did you kill yourself?"

His voice was barely audible but Harry caught it anyways. It threw him off guard. Why did he kill himself? What a question to ask! He felt his heart drop once more and his depression returned, overriding his awe at his new home. Harry floated over to the bed and his hand slid right through the comforter. It was a long time before he answered. He was in no hurry. After all, what did they have if not time? They were both immortal now in their own rights. Voldemort because of Harry and Harry because he was already dead but tied to Voldemort with magic of the darkest kind.

"I was in love. I was in love with a man who hated my very being. He despised everything about me. But no matter the cruel way he treated me, I never stopped loving him. I never stopped wanting him to just…see me. In the end though… I was weak. I couldn't take being nothing to him anymore. I was nothing more than a despicable inconvenience. So I ended it all. Or I thought I had. Then I was here." Harry explained darkly, glaring at the bed that he so wanted to lie on and rest.

"Who?" Voldemort asked, pressing with a determination that surprised him.

"Severus Snape."

The man hissed angrily, pacing around the room. Harry watched with shock. Had he said something wrong? Why was Voldemort angry with him?

"Why are you mad?" He asked after several moments of this strange behavior had passed.

The Dark Lord spun around, glaring at him. Harry half expected him to release some torrent of curses on him but it never came. Instead, the single shocking revelation came instead.

"He doesn't deserve you!" He hissed before storming out of the room.

Harry was left staring after him in shock.

~ o ~

He had not been able to get his young charge from his bed no matter what he did. Severus's heart ached as he desperately tried again and again. He had put him in this position. It was his fault that Harry was the way he was. It was a sort of cruel ironic revenge that Voldemort left the boy in his care. Then again, he supposed it was wise after all. He would take care of Harry well because of his guilt. Ever since the Dark Lord had left, Harry hadn't stirred from his bed except to go to the bathroom. The boy's dark hair was lank and he had only buried himself in Voldemort's pillows when he had tried to get him to eat. For a small time, he had put an IV with nutrient potions in the boy's arm but it didn't take long before Harry had pulled the thing out and left it on the floor, still dripping. He didn't want food or water. He didn't want company or sleep. He just wanted Voldemort. Severus had extra eyes watching the teen, putting him back on Suicide Watch just in case.

\m/>.


	23. Snakes

A/N: Okay, super long nonverbal!Harry and it's Harry/Voldie as well as Harry/Severus and dubious consent between HP/OC. SLASH!

Disclaimer: Nope!

Prompt014-Snakes

'Signing'

;Parsle;

Harry ran down the stairs with a fervor that belied his excitement. Today was his thirteenth birthday! His parents sat at the breakfast table around a mound of presents and a birthday cake all his own. He slid down the banister to fall flat on the rug at the bottom. His mother Felicity shot out of her seat to help him up but he waved off her concerns.

'I'm fine, mum.' The teen signed quickly, assuring his deaf mother of his health.

He gave her a wry grin and a shrug. His other mother, September, shook her head with a roll of her eyes.

"What have I told you about sliding down that banister, mister?" She asked with that melodic voice of hers that had sang him to sleep when he was little.

'I'm sorry!'

Harry Forrester eyed his parents with a cheeky grin. Yes, the Forresters were an odd family. A nonverbal boy adopted by two lesbians, one of which was deaf herself, the other her beautiful translator. He watched his mothers from his place on the floor with a great amount of affection.

The Forresters had adopted him when he was four after his relatives had dumped him at an orphanage. They had raised him as the gem of their life, never spoiling him but always treating him as the most precious thing in their lives. While their lives had been filled with difficulties and hardships, they were happy with each other.

Many didn't take kindly to the fact that Harry had two mothers and so he was homeschooled with his best friend, Sara. He had been in public school once but the teasing had proved to be too much, especially after an especially cruel and brutal round of tormenting from his fellow school mates. Harry had broken his arm in that incident and his mothers had pulled him from school immediately.

This had severely impeded his ability to use his sign language. It had put Harry in a six week long foul mood. He was determined to have a great day though. It was his birthday! He should enjoy every moment of it!

'Happy Birthday, Harry!' Felicity signed with a bright smile on her pale face.

September was braiding her pale moonlight blonde hair from behind, her own black hair falling to her waist. His parents were cut from the same cloth it seemed. Both had long hair, though in opposing shades of black and platinum blonde, both were petite as birds and enjoyed long lovely dresses rather than pants or the t-shirts that Harry himself favored. They were both beautiful and had lovely voices. And they were all his.

"Happy Birthday, precious."

He hugged them both in turn and settled into his own apple for breakfast. The birthday cake was a small one sitting on the counter waiting for the official birthday party. That would be just the three of them and Sara.

'You two are too good to me.' He signed with a grin.

'We don't spoil you at all!' Felicity replied with a sarcastic look in his direction.

September snorted but held her peace. She ran a hand through Harry's shoulder length hair lovingly. They really did love him. It was going to be an eventful day. They were going to eat breakfast, go shopping, spend the day at the park with Sara who was due to arrive any moment and then they would have the festivities. Birthday cake and ice cream.

They had planned the whole day out. After that they were going to go to the movies. It was going to be perfect.

That was, until an owl with a letter tied to it flew straight into the kitchen through the window. Harry stared at it for a long moment, not even daring to believe that an endangered nocturnal bird had just flown into his kitchen. Was that some weird omen or something? That was until he saw the letter and his face contorted in anger. It was the same letter that Sara had gotten three years ago. They had read it once and her parents had quickly penned back a refusal. It was an invitation to go to a school. The part that infuriated him was that it was not his name on the back of the letter. It was someone else's.

Harry Potter. He was Harry Forrester. Potter had been the name that his relatives had only ever spoken once and never where they thought he could hear. It had been the name of his birth father. Not HIS name. He untied the letter, handing the owl a piece of toast from the table. The thing settled on the milk jug and happily set into the bread.

'Harry?' Felicity asked, looking frightened of the complacent bird and very confused.

"Harry, what is that?" His Mom asked in relation to the letter now laying on the table innocently.

He sighed, his breath quivering in confusion. Why had he gotten this? Why had it taken so long if Sara got hers three years ago? Why was it addressed to Harry Potter instead of Harry Forrester? What would his parents think?

'It's an invitation to go to school. A magic school. Sara got one when I was at her house three years ago. It was just like this one. Delivered by owl just like this one.'

Harry just stared at the offending thing, angry at it for ruining his birthday. Why did it have to come today of all days? He didn't even open the letter but instead just handed it to his disbelieving mothers. They would believe more if they had proof. The letter was proof enough for the time.

Felicity stood quickly after several moments of tense silence. She crossed the table and hugged him tearfully. They had been so happy and now this- this mess! When could they finally just have the quiet life they had been wanting for so long? That was the day that Harry Forrester became enrolled in Hogwarts school of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

~ o ~

His mothers had been completely floored when they had first seen the magic and mystery that was Diagon Alley. They had rushed off to see everything they could see with Harry following excitedly behind. It was amazing! There was so much to take in at once that by two oclock, they could be found at the ice cream shop nearby, exhausted and still trying to soak in more.

'There is so much!' Harry exclaimed, his eyes following a woman dragging what looked to be a furry Scottish terrier with a spade for a nose down the street with much difficulty.

Felicity nodded emphatically.

'Yes! It's so...magical! It seems fitting that someone as wonderful and talented as you would belong to a world this wonderful.' She signed to her son with a loving smile.

'Well, it's your world now too, through me. So get used to it!'

September laughed, tugging on their matching braids for a moment.

"Come on you two sillies. Let's go and set you up an account at the bank and get your school supplies. We need to get you home for dinner! You can't just miss a meal and still be able to awe all of your new classmates with no energy!" She insisted, pulling them both to their feet and trudging off towards the large marble building down the street, her long sun dress trailing in the wind behind her. Her wife and son each took a hand, ready to take in their new world together, as a family.

The incident at the bank was one that Harry would not be forgetting any time soon. Apparently, his biological parents had left him a huge sum of Wizarding money in a vault at Gringott's. He and his mothers would not want for anything ever again even though both of them insisted that he was to use that inheritance for himself only because it belonged to him. The way Harry saw it was that it was his and he would bloody well spend it on his two wonderful parents as much as he wanted and he told them that too. September just shook her head while Felicity laughed silently beside them. They had gone to get his supplies directly after. However, when it came to familiars, his options were certainly limited. Felicity couldn't even go into the store because she was so allergic to pet mess and dander. That marked the owls and cats off of his list and he hated frogs of any sort. He found himself wandering the store, half in despair at his lack of any animals that wouldn't send his beloved mom into fits of sneezes. That was until he came to the back of the store and saw the tanks lined against the wall labeled "DANGER". He saw the array of serpents, some with glistening wings protruding from their sinuous bodies. They were beautiful.

;Human! The human is looking. Perhaps he will take us out and we will bite him and finally be free! Free of this ridiculous tank and we will finally be beautiful again.;

Harry was taken aback but took the speaking snakes as just another Wizarding thing. He walked over to the tank, smiling softly at the beautiful creatures before him. If only they could understand him…He felt an odd sort of tickle in the back of his throat, a sensation he had never experienced before but it soon passed. There was one serpent that was watching him deeply, a beautiful female, black with silver wings and a long lavender stripe down her back, that slid up to the glass to him.

;Worry not, child. I am the oldest of us and I understand your plight. I will be your familiar. You will need a protector in the coming days. I am called Shiva by the younglings.; She hissed softly, earning a dazzling smile from him.

He dragged his mom into the store so September could interpret for him to the store clerk. The man paled when he saw Harry pick the dangerous snake up with his bare hand, allowing the snake to slither up his sleeve and poke a curious head out of his shirt neck, pleased. They paid for his purchase and left the store, leaving the disturbed clerk behind.

They arrived safely back home and Harry was watching Shiva explore her new surroundings. She was enjoying the freedom to fly around his room and bask on the warming stone he had picked up at the pet store. There would be no cages for her. She was special. She alighted on his pillow with a pleased sigh. Her wings had three tiny little claws at the tips that she used as fingers to get a purchase on things. She had already explored every nook and cranny of his bedroom and was now diving into a leftover pork chop from dinner last night, tearing into the meat happily. He grinned. At the rate she scarfed the thing down, he wondered if she would be able to fly from being so fat soon!

Harry had taken to reading his school materials long before it was time to go to school so it was no surprise that as he waved his mothers goodbye from the compartment of the Hogwarts Express that he pulled his Potions book out to read. It wasn't until his compartment opened at a blonde boy entered that he met the first Wizarding boy his own age.

"Oh. You don't mind? Everywhere is full except in the compartment with the Weasle's" The boy said calmly, observing him curiously.

Shiva perched on his shoulder, occasionally dipping down to eat from the Tupperware container of minced beef he had brought along for her.

'No, sit down, please.' Harry signed.

The boy's eyes were confused for a moment but lit up afterwards.

" You can hear me, so you aren't deaf. You are mute then?"

Harry nodded.

'You sign?'

"Very little. Just enough to understand some. My godfather signs. He's a teacher at Hogwarts so he tries to cram anything and everything into my brain whenever he stays with my family during the summer. What's your name? Slowly, if you don't mind. I'm Draco Malfoy by the way."

'Harry Forrester. Nice to meet you. This is Shiva.'

It took three times before he was able to catch on to what Harry was signing. Draco smirked but not in a cruel or arrogant way. More as a way of smiling but doing so that others knew that he was not a push over.

"You too. Hey, you're new, so stick with me and you'll have no problems. I'll help you out." Draco said, extending his hand in an offer of friendship.

Harry smiled, taking the hand in gratitude. His first friend! The day was looking less lonely than before.

~ o ~

McGonagall was reading the names from the front of the Great Hall, which had Harry in even more awe than he was of Diagon Alley. The old witch was standing by a stool that looked like wind could blow it over holding a raggedy old hat. She began calling names and Harry tuned her out in lieu of looking around the huge hall. There were thousands of children, all wearing one of four color schemes. Draco was called and his attentions turned eagerly to the blonde boy. The hat didn't even touch his head before it yelled out: Slytherin. Then it was back to ignoring the witch. He snapped to when he heard Harry. Then the name was repeated as the crowd grew silent. The name was called three more times before the witch moved off the raised floor and began to walk towards him. Harry stepped back looking at her oddly.

"Mr. Potter, I must ask you to come when called."

He shook his head at her continuously, putting his hands up in a clueless gesture, it wasn't until Draco shouted that silence ensued again.

"His name is Harry Forrester and he can't speak." He said loud enough for the teachers to hear, rolling his eyes as if it were obvious.

"Then how is it, Mr. Malfoy, that you know his name?" Professor Snape's voice rang through the hall as Draco made his way over to his mute friend.

"He signed it." Draco replied with a sniff, giving the potion's master a meaningful look.

The Deputy Headmistress frowned down at the two teens who stood side by side. Draco had apparently meant what he had said about watching out for him. The blonde had his arms crossed defiantly and stood rigidly before Harry in defense of the boy who could not defend himself.

"As in a signature?" She asked in disbelief, her annoyance a visual thing.

Professor Snape rolled his eyes and chose to respond himself.

"No, it's a way muggles created to speak when they couldn't be vocal or hear for whatever reason." He stated calmly but irritatedly.

"How isn't that Harry Potter?" McGonagall was whispering to Professor Snape, "He's an almost spitting image of James."

"I see that," Snape almost spat. "Who are your parents?" He asked turning to the silent boy, looking down his nose at the spitting image that had plagued his adolescence.

Several sets of eyes were watching with interest from the staff table, two of which were watching with more than slight interest. One set, watching from the handsome face of one of his soon to be professors flashed red for a moment before fading to the usual hazel. The other was the glittering, confused eyes of the Headmaster.

"Felicity and September Forrester." Draco answered a few moments later once the two professors had looked at Harry making 'weird and awkward gestures' or so McGonagall had whispered.

Snape was trying to make sense of his now spiraling life. The Deputy Headmistress looked appalled. He had the feeling that she was having the same out of control, tipped suddenly upside down, feeling he was experiencing.

"Two...women? Are they your blood parents, Harry, or did they adopt you?" McGonagall asked softly.

The entire hall was looking at the four now, and she was attempting to make it at least a semiprivate conversation. Whispers were flowing throughout the massive room already, though, and Harry found himself suddenly feeling very self conscious. Harry began to sign something that seemed longer than a yes or no, or even adopted. When he was finished and Draco went to answer Snape's eyes tore away from Harry as he spoke.

"Mr. Malfoy, you may go sit down. What Mr. Forrester has to say is no one's business but the staff's and his own."

"But-!" Draco pursed his lips tightly, glaring at his godfather with an unfathomable irritation, "You will help him then? Do you promise?"

"I give you my word." Snape answered seriously.

When Draco gifted him with a soft smile, he walked over to his table, waiting for his new charge to be sorted. The potion's master looked down at the frowning, and anxious teen before him. He couldn't hate the brat now. Not when he needed him so much.

' Please sit on the stool, Mr. Forrester, and let us put the hat on your head. It will not hurt. Don't worry. My godson and I will take care of you.'

Harry's face broke into a relieved smile, his emerald eyes sparking with happiness. How could he hate Lily's eyes? Snape found himself unable to even be harsh with him after seeing that smile that he thought he would never experience again. The calculating pair of eyes watching from the staff table was intrigued at the display and at the teen now sitting before the whole audience. Tom Riddle found himself captivated by the beautiful enigma that was Harry Forrester. The sorting hat fell over Harry's head and blocked out all light and sound. All he could hear was his own breathing until a voice began speaking in his head.

"Well, Mr. Potter- excuse my rudeness- Mr. Forrester, I thought I would see you much sooner than this. Oh well. I guess we will have to make due, yes? You seem to have grown very attached to the young Malfoy. Your mothers would approve, I'm sure. You will have more than one protector in this school. I know where I shall put you already and seeing as how I always leave each of my students with a bit of advice, I shall leave this to you. Trust Tom Riddle. He may confuse you at times, but he will not lead you astray. Trust him before the Headmaster. That old man's lies will hang him someday. He has grown senile, I'm afraid. Well, off you go. Plenty to experience before we speak again! SLYTHERIN!"

Harry felt the hat removed with a quick and deft pluck of the fingers. Up at the staff table he could see Professor Snape, the Headmaster and another, very good looking professor clapping. The unknown man tossed him a smile that sent shivers down his spine and not in an unpleasant way either. Draco bid him over to the clapping table with a wave and a comforting smile. He knew already that he would fit in very well in his new house.

~ o ~

Harry sighed, frustrated to irritation. Already, several people had come to see the supposed Boy-Who-Lived, only to walk out awkwardly when they couldn't understand him on their own and Draco offered no help. Rude, rude, rude. Even worse were the ones who assumed that he was deaf so they started to yell what they had to say as if that would help anyways. He found these people's presence abrasive at best and downright infuriating at others. Draco and his new friends, Pansy and Blaise, took to his defense and forced these annoyances away immediately with sharp tongues. It wasn't their assumption that he was deaf that bothered him. It was the rude way they treated him. Some got offended even, as if he were purposefully not speaking. Not all of them were bad though. A couple tried to understand, but even finger spelling went way over their heads. Sad, really. So he contented himself with questioning Draco about every little thing from the houses to the professor that had not once taken his amused, interested eyes off of him.

"That's Professor Riddle. He teaches Defense Against the Dark Arts. He seems to have taken an interest in you, Harry." Draco said slyly, raising an eyebrow suggestively.

Harry blushed darkly, looking away from the man who had caught his embarrassment with an even more amused grin. Fortunately, Snape, now known to him as Severus, demanded the teacher's attentions and engaged him in some sort of conversation that held the man's attention. His blonde friend tugged on his sleeve, diverting him to follow him down to the dungeons with the rest of their classmates. Just before leaving the Great Hall, Harry caught Riddle's eye again before Severus swept him after the others.

'You are Draco's godfather?' He asked the dark man standing over him in an almost protective manner.

'Yes. I am close friends with his father and mother.'

Harry gave him a sign that he easily understood as 'Ah, I see'. The teen shivered as they entered the dungeons.

'You'll want to have Draco teach you to cast warming charms on your robes. You will be coming to the Defense classroom every evening at eight o'clock for extra lessons with Professor Riddle and I. We need to get you caught up on the things you've missed.' The man instructed briskly, sweeping him into the Slytherin Dorms that would be his home for the next four years.

'I read all of the first and second year material at home. I know it all in theory. I just need the practical.' Harry responded, looking around at the comfortable settings he was already fond of.

Severus spared him a pleased smirk.

'Good! That will speed things up. You will be sharing a room with Draco and Blaise, so just follow them up. Your things will already be there waiting. I will see you in class in the morning. Don't get discouraged, Harry. Draco and I will help you.'

'Thank you.' He signed to the man's parting back before turning and following his new companions up to their dorm room, Shiva looking about curiously on his neck like some sort of demented necklace.

Harry walked into his first class of the day having ignored everyone but Draco, Pansy and Blaise previously. The potions class was dark and gloomy but he found himself liking it. It was just like Severus. Foreboding on the outside but holding wonders on the inside. The damp coolness was a relief to him. The upper levels were somewhat too warm for his liking. Draco waved him into the seat next to him with an amused glance. He accepted the empty seat gratefully, much to the horror of the Gryffindors sitting opposite them. Draco had told him all about this ridiculous Boy-Who-Lived nonsense. It was all stupidity. It was only a moment more in which the Gryffs scrambled for their seats, all unwilling to be caught in Severus's caustic glare, before their Head of House walked in in great long strides. Severus was tall and dark like some great shadow come to overtake the landscape. He was like night time. He was stern and had the air of someone who expected only the best from each student. Harry liked that.

"I realize that some of you, no doubt a great many of you, will be far too dim witted for the subtle art of potion making. If you are one of those unfortunates then intend on writing many many essays to make up for your lack of work ethic in my class. If you fail to do a potion correctly because of your own stupidity, I will not hesitate to make you learn the theory from every conceivable angle."

The Gryffs looked terrified. Harry noticed that Severus had gorgeous hands. Perfect for potion making and signing. Dear Merlin…He wasn't developing a crush on his teacher was he? He sincerely hoped not. Severus caught his pale, somewhat dumbstruck expression with a frown. He directed the rest of the class to begin their potions before waving Harry's attention back to him. He had him settle at his own desk in front of the room and summoned Harry's things over.

'Are you well, Harry?' At the teen's nod, he shrugged it off and began his instructions for him, ' Until we can find you a competent interpreter, you will be brewing you potions with me. Now begin crushing your beetled to a fine powder and make sure there are no chunks. Otherwise, you could end up like Longbottom with your ears so big that they weight your head down. I don't joke! It happened last week. He spent two days in the infirmary...'

Class, with Severus's unique brand of humor and expert help, was great. Harry did well and he could tell that his temporary interpreter was very pleased with his diligent work. Much to Harry's expressed gratitude, the man called his next teacher into his class to explain his situation in full. Professor Tom Riddle looked down at him with a smile that reminded Harry of the way Mr. Darcy looked at Elizabeth Bennett during their confusing stage. Would that make Severus Mr. Bingley? The comparison was almost laughable.

"It is nice to finally be introduced, Mr. Forrester. If you need any extra assistance, do not hesitate to come to Severus or I for extra aid. My door will always be open." He purred.

Harry wasn't sure if the silk in the man's voice was flirting or not but judging by the look of exasperation on Severus's face, he had to guess that his assumption was right on the money.

'It's nice to meet you too.'

Severus interpreted for him the whole time, shooting Riddle small looks of disapproval all the way.

"Very well, Mr. Forrester, why don't I escort you to my class? It would hardly do for the teacher to be late. Setting a bad example and all that rot." Riddle said in a shot obviously meant for Severus who rolled his eyes in response.

Harry smiled at him softly, still somewhat nervous about this strange school and even stranger culture he had been dumped into by one simple letter. His smile seemed to encourage Riddle for he quickly escorted him out of the door.

~ o ~

"So, do you like Hogwarts?" He asked, receiving a so-so hand gesture back. "And your parents are muggles?"

'My mother and mama adopted me when I was four.' Harry signed.

At Tom's confusion, he took out a sheet of parchment , stopping in the thinning hallway to write it down.

"Ahh, I see. Well Severus suggested that I help him work with you until we find someone to interpret for you. I'm going to suggest to the Headmaster that you be given a room between Severus's and my own that still connects to the Slytherin dorm. That way one of us will always be available to you when you have need of us." At Harry's distressed frown, he elaborated. "You see, Harry, because of the vast array of prenatal medical and diagnostic potion and spells we use in the Wizarding World, most witches and wizards have never even heard of handicaps or birth defects such as yours, let alone actually seen them. It is going to be somewhat difficult for the other students to adjust to your presence here and for us to find you someone to interpret. I believe you are in good hands, though. Severus knows signing because he once had a dear friend who was deaf, I know of it because I, like you, was raised in the muggle world."

Harry nodded, letting him know he understood. Like Severus, he found himself growing to like Professor Riddle. He was sarcastic and amusing with a very cultured way of speaking. He had lovely hands that were just as handsome as the rest of him. And he was actually trying to help unlike the useless Headmaster that sat brooding up in his office.

"Severus and I are going to take you to the Headmaster after dinner to try and get all of this sorted out along with you living arrangements."

Harry smiled brightly and taught Riddle his very first sign:

'Thank you.'

~ o ~

Ron Weasley sat across the Defense class, pondering the mystery that was Harry Potter-Forrester. According to rumor, he had been adopted by two lesbians in the muggle world and had disappeared off of the face of the earth. It had been speculated that the boy had never gotten his Hogwarts letters before because he couldn't be found after he was adopted. However, Ron wasn't as concerned about where he came from as to what he was going to do now that he was there. Or more specifically, what he was going to do with Draco. He watched his off and on secret lover ease his new friend through the class with a slight jealousy and kinship. He could understand what Forrester saw in Draco. He was magnificent after all. He was gorgeous and smart and sexy…He was everything that anyone could ever want. Forrester seemed oblivious to this fact though which Ron could not understand.

He had gotten a letter from Draco at breakfast, telling him to meet him in their usual spot, the Room of Requirement, for their extra special extra-curricular activities. Just the sight of the elegant handwriting on the page brought a pleasant shiver down the red head's spine. Hermione had just pretended not to notice with a knowing smile on her face. She knew about them, of course, but she accepted it and even helped alibi him against their dorm mates when he snuck out at night. She was great. Maybe Forrester wasn't interested in Draco?

But why wouldn't he be? Couldn't he see what a marvel the Malfoy heir was? Couldn't he see how beautiful he was? Ron sighed and almost lost track of what he was doing to his Dementor sketch until Hermione prodded him to attention with the tip of her quill. He winced but sent her grateful smile. Professor Riddle had been making his rounds to see their sketches when he had gotten sucked into his daydream. Good thing he had Hermione. He'd be toast otherwise. Riddle did not tolerate incompetence or distraction in any form. He wasn't as cold as Snape but he was just as quick to take points.

~ o ~

Dumbledore sat up in his office with his lemon drops, deep in thought. What had happened with Harry? He had had no idea that the infant that he left on the Dursley's doorstep all those years ago was vocally impaired. The child had been asleep when he had left him with his relatives and hadn't uttered a peep when they had picked him up from the rubble of the Potter home. The last should have been a clear sign but everything was such craziness that night that it had slipped his notice as just another odd quirk of the Boy-Who-Lived. He would have never guessed that the Dursley's would give their nephew to an orphanage either He had assumed that guilt over the Potter's deaths would incite them to raise the boy with their own. He had been wrong and hadn't even known anything was out of place until Harry's Hogwarts letters had come back to him unanswered and unopened.

By the time that he realized what had happened, Harry had been long gone for years and the orphanage he had been at had suffered a small fire in their record office three years prior, leaving no trace of little Harry behind. With no way of knowing who he was adopted by or where he was, Dumbledore had fallen into despair. It was probably what had convinced him that hiring the Dark Lord as a teacher was a good idea. He could keep an eye on the man and his actions would be severely limited at Hogwarts. While this was true, the number of raids had been drastically decreased over school term, he and Tom had forged a kind of silent camaraderie. They would often sit down and just speak of inconsequential things like which student Tom wished he could feed to Filch and who was caught doing what in the broom closet, always weighing each other and rarely ever giving one another ground.

It was a very interesting game the two of them played and over time Albus had become fond of their small chats. Perhaps he would ask Tom what he now intended to do, since Harry was now at Hogwarts. He popped one of his candies into his mouth thoughtfully.

~ o ~

"I visited your parents earlier today. They've asked me to act as your interpreter while you are at school here." The tall man said offhandedly, leaing over his desk to eyeball a stack of ungraded papers distastefully.

Harry smirked, stifling a laugh.

'How did that go?'

Severus crossed his arms before answering in flippant signs.

"Your mother makes an excellent cobbler."

'True.' Harry looked up at him coyly, half shy as well, 'So...my interpreter? Is that...all?' He signed and the potions master's eyes widened slightly as green met obsidian.

His hands were still for a long moment as he thought. Long enough for Harry to get nervous and avert his eyes.

"Perhaps...if you wish it...it could be more."

Harry beamed and the professor stepped close.

'I do wish it.'

Tentatively, Severus leaned down and kissed him softly. Sparks danced along their senses and neither saw the crimson eyes that were watching them. Severus knew that what he had just agreed to went way beyond what was ethical. He could lose his job, possibly even be prosecuted if Harry's mothers raised hell about it. He knew that he shouldn't but...with Harry in his arms, so sweet and wanting him too, he couldn't find the heart to refuse him.

~ o ~

He slammed his hands down on his desk in frustration.

'I've been doing this for an hour and half!'

"Then do it again. Despite how much you may hate it, this is necessary. We can't have that old man poking around in your brain, can we?" Tom replied with a smirk.

Harry sighed, collapsing into the nearest chair, Tom's desk seat.

'I'm all out of happy thoughts right now.' He signed back desolately.

The Dark Lord let him rest for a moment, thinking over the possible outcomes of his actions. He had ineveitably cause Severus and Harry's break up and he knew the teen would be less inclined to any new advances. Was he going to try it anyways? Oh yes. Tom leaned over the mute boy, tilting his head up with one single finger.

"Let me pick you up then." He whispered and kissed the wide eyed teen softly.

Harry's body was still for a long moment but when, at last, he began to respond, Tom deepened the kiss passionately. He didn't want to give the boy in his arms any way to compare him to Severus. He would be no one's second best. Harry gasped but not in pain or alarm but rather intrigue. The Dark Lord knew that if he didn't step away now, he wouldn't be able to. He couldn't press Harry too soon though. He needed to put his advance out there and give the boy time to accept it on his own. If he did press to hard too soon then Harry would slip through his fingers. He would barricade himself against him and that would just not do. He pulled away running a soft teasing hand down the flushed, panting boys cheek

"Was that happy enough?"

He received a shaky nod in return. Looking at the fierce blush on Harry's face, Tom would say he had definitely succeeded. He had laid the first stone. He had made the first move and set the groundwork for the relationship that they would have.

~ o ~

Harry glared, tears spilling over his emerald green eyes. Tom glared at him frustrated while Severus watched on, torn between his Lord and protecting his student.

(You can't accept me because I am not like you! You won't love me because it's easier to just pretend it doesn't exist! You want someone NORMAL to be by your side so no one will look on you as weak because they see me as weak. Just because I cannot speak doesn't mean I have no voice. It hurts to be with you! When I come here and see you sleeping with someone else! You've been pressuring me to learn to speak ever since we started dating. It's because you don't want someone broken by your side isn't it?)

At this point the boy's hands halted their movements to cover his face. He didn't want his cheating lover to see the agony he was in. Tom didn't deserve that. Or maybe HE didn't. His friend and interpreter stood next to him worried. Harry's tears seemed to send the man into fits of anxiety. Tom glared outright.

;I won't listen to the inane ramblings of a teenage boy! You don't know what you are talking about! You don't know anything! I never promised you monogamy, Harry and who I sleep with is none of your concern!;

The teen's lips trembled at the angry voice. He shook his head once, twice, before turning and fleeing from the Chamber of Secrets, and through the school to the grounds outside. The Dark Lord growled, remaining in the chamber to pace furiously. Leaving him unawares, Severus left the Chamber silently, hoping to find his small, underappreciated charge soon. The Dark Lord really didn't know what he was losing by shutting off his feelings and acting like a moron. He was afraid of getting too invested and because of that fear, had pushed away the one person who loved him undeniably.

~ o ~

Harry couldn't take the stares of the students or the ignorance of the staff. His mothers had sent him to the Wizarding World because they had hoped he would be better understood here than in the muggle world. Unfortunately, that had not been the case. Because of the rarity of birth defects in the Wizarding World, most of the citizens had never even heard of a person with his situation. He couldn't speak. SO what? Why did that give them the right to treat him any differently? Tom was the first person he had ever met besides Severus and Draco who had bothered to get to know him. Now…Now none of that mattered anymore. He curled beneath a big tree in the Forbidden Forest, content to just lay there and die. He had given everything to Tom. He had given him his heart, his virginity, and his trust. And the Dark Lord had just disregarded him once again. He didn't want him for a long term relationship. He just wanted to be with him and then move on to the next better thing. He wished he could wither up and disappear just like his soul seemed to be doing.

"My poor, poor little raven. I told you he would hurt you didn't I? I told you he would just leave you empty. But my poor broken, underloved raven had to find out this way."

Harry seemed to shrink even further in on himself hearing that voice. Fearless stood in the shadows nearby watching, his half mask glinting in the moon. His deranged smile was as always mocking but there was something different about it this time. Something that seemed to draw to the hurt and confused boy. Nonetheless, he would not be crafted to the mad man's will. Fearless had been trying to steal him from Tom from the moment the madman had seen him. Especially once he had seen him in Tom's arms. He had resolved himself to get him into his own embrace at any means possible from then. He shook his head, unable to still the stream of tears. Fearless was suddenly just in front of him, making Harry jerk back. In an instant the sociopath had his arms around him and the frail looking boy smothered against his chest from behind. Harry struggled but after a moment he went slack in the man's arms and he dissolved into misery once more. What was the point of fighting anymore?

"Shhhhhh, my raven…I'll take good care of you. I will treat you as you deserve to be treated. Cherished. You will be mine. This time, that pathetic Dark Lord will not be here to stop me." He hissed before disappearing with the crying boy in hand.

~ o ~

Severus had been patient with his friend and Lord for long enough. But when two days of searching had failed to turn up the missing mute boy, he was done. He stormed to the manor, his robes billowing out behind him threateningly. He barged into the man's office, uncaring of if anyone was inside with him.

"You listen to me, Tom Marvolo Riddle! I don't care what hang ups you have about relationships but when you put MY CHARGE'S safety on the line, I cannot accept that!"

Tom was, while looking somewhat worse for wear, wide eyed in his chair.

"What are you talking about, Severus?"

"HARRY! After that bull you pulled the other day, he ran off! He's been missing for two days!"

His eyes grew even wider and fearful this time before narrowing in rage.

"Fearless." He hissed.

~ o ~

Harry gasped under the light caresses he was receiving, biting his lip punishingly. Fearless breathed against his lips, leaning down to lick his bottom lip in a way that taunted him. The man's long black hair was loose and flowing over his shoulders. His equally black eyes reminded him strongly of Severus but where his interpreter's eyes held a deep understanding, Fearless' eyes held a spark of danger and seduction. Their lips met once more and Harry felt a cool hand slip up his shirt. It teased along his chest pulling a gasp from his throat. Fearless smirked. He was everything he had imagined him to be. So responsive and enjoyable. So shy…It was going to be a long eventful night indeed. Oh yes. He had many pleasures in store for his little raven.


	24. Window

A/N: Okay, so this is just an odd little one shot. An idea I had when I was trying to take a nap and had The Dark Knight playing. It's sort of a play on the line "Now I see the funny side. Now I'm always smiling!" Warnings: abuse, character death, probably swearing.

Disclaimer: Nope! I own nothing!

Prompt025- Window

~~Now I'm Always Smiling~~

I was sitting at my house table, surrounded by my fellow Slytherins. And what was on my mind, you ask? What had the Slytherin Prince's brain so occupied that he was ignoring even the salacious Pansy Parkinson (as if I didn't do that anyways!)? Why, Harry Potter, of course. The Boy Who Lived was sitting at the Gryffindor table, smiling and laughing with his friends just as he should be. Just as he did every day. And what would be wrong with the perfect, precious Boy Savior enjoying his life? What was the problem with this picture?

It was all a lie.

Potter looked the picture of perfection, of course, but it was a fake. A sham. I had seen a lot of masks in my life. I was in Slytherin, hailed as their prince, after all. I had learned my own mask from the best of the best, my own godfather, Severus. It was good, I had to give him that. I could see the wrongness of it though. I was an expert at masks. So the question now was what was Potter hiding so secretively that he wore such a deceiving mask to his best friends? I knew I shouldn't pry. It was Dumbledore's Golden Boy we were talking about. However, he was my rival. I had never been able to keep my nose out of Potter's business. How could I resist?

~ o ~

"Hey Potter. You're out after hours you know."

He didn't turn towards me, only kept staring out the window in the highest part of the Astronomy tower, though the corner of his mouth twitched upwards slightly.

"As are you it would seem." Was the only response I received.

I approached him slowly, curious at the odd mood that seemed to hang over him like a miasma. It was nearing midnight now and I was almost certain that Potter hadn't been to his common room at all yet. Now that I had the opportunity to study him properly, I could see that Potter was pale and drawn, almost sickly looking. His emerald eyes were dull and jaded with purple bags beneath them. I wondered how many nights he spent up here, staring out over the grounds like a statue. I had nearly missed him to be honest. He had been standing so still as I passed that only the breath of wind making his cloak sway alerted me to his presence. He didn't seem at all perturbed or disrupted by my presence or by the silence that stood between us.

"I wonder if it would feel like flying…" He whispered, staring out, almost sightlessly, of the window.

"If what would?"

"Jumping out of this window."

His voice was so light that it was like a stray stand of night breeze tickling my senses. I was surprisingly unsurprised by his admission. Potter looked rough. Not his appearance, no he was far too careful for that, but the heaviness in his eyes. He looked like a man who had seen horrors unmentionable and didn't know how to cope with the memory.

"I stand here every night, you know. Wondering what it would be like."

I said nothing, only kept watching him. What was a supposed to say, after all? My worst enemy just admitted to me that he pondered flinging himself from the highest tower. How…Shakespearean.

"Do you wonder things like that sometimes, Draco?" He asked lightly, conversationally.

"No."

He smirked softly.

"Of course you don't." His voice sounded almost bitter. Another pregnant silence passed between us, "They expect me to save them all. It's kind of funny, actually."

I raised an eyebrow. Now this was interesting. So Potter didn't think much of his duty, eh? Very interesting.

"They are pathetic mongrels." I said flippantly, attempting to get a rise out of him, a reaction, anything except this docile melancholy.

"They are pathetic. That is true. Sometimes I wonder what it would be like to just…say no. Tell them that putting their hopes from survival on a kid is absurd and they aren't worth my life. I wish I could…smile again. Like when we were kids."

He suddenly turned that fake, blinding smile on me, all of his strange depression gone in an instant. I sneered at the sight. It may work on his pathetic friends but it certainly wasn't fooling me. All it served to do was unsettle me. I can't stand the sight of it. It seemed somehow perverse. That someone could hide away all of that pain and heaviness behind such a disturbing mask. I was unmoved on the outside and just looked at him blankly. It was interesting to see such a Slytherin side of the Boy Who Lived. Who knew that he had been thinking these things all along?

"Then tell them. Take your own life into your own hands, Potter. Merlin! Break away from the little hero that they've molded you into. Tell them to fuck themselves. It's your life after all. What are they going to do about it? Slander you in some rag? Pfft!"

I don't know why I was getting so worked up and outraged by the whole situation. This was Potter for Merlin's sake! What did I care if he stayed Dumbledore's Golden Boy? His smile became alittle more genuine but it was bitter and filled with self loathing.

"I'm too much of a coward, though." He whispered, for once during the whole conversation looking away and hanging his head.

It was as if his whole form folded in on itself as he leaned against the stone window sill. I rolled my eyes.

"Shut up, Potter. You are the most uncowardly person in this entire school. If you can't even take your own life into your hands then you are just as pathetic as they are." I said harshly before turning around and walking back down the stairs.

On my way down I could hear him chuckle and the last thing he said before he turned back around to stare outside once more.

"You're right…"

I didn't notice the suddenly bright way his eyes shimmered or the determination and peace there.

The next night, they would find Potter dead at the base of the Astronomy Tower, a gruesome smile cut into his face. In his pocket, he had a folded up message written in his own blood, written simply and concisely. On one side it had one message, on the back it had another.

On the front it read: 'Now I'm always smiling.'

On the back it read: 'Fuck you all.'

How…poetic.


	25. Contradiction

A/N: Okay, so this is something I've only seen once. It's a priest!Harry but he's also an incubus, so be warned, this is SLASH! It's Voldie/Harry. And yes, Harry is Demetri. ^^

Disclaimer: Nope!

Prompt012- Contradiction

Demetri was just raising the bottle to his lips when it was knocked cruelly from his hands and he found himself shoved once more into the rough brick of the alley wall. Voldemort glared down at him, not even bothering to shelter himself from the rain. Even though his sanctuary from the hell of his true self was now ruined and slipping down the storm drain, Demetri could only manage a vague interest. He looked up at his nemesis blankly.

"You mustn't ever take that filth again, do you understand me? It's destroying you! Do you want to die?" Voldemort yelled, seemingly truly distressed by the matter.

Demetri thought about it, really and truly thought about it. Yes. Yes, he did if it meant having to take that foul poison or succumbing to his demon. But…He wanted to live too. Death as a means of escape was cowardly. He wanted to live so he could see…everything. He wanted to witness life in a new light, not the evil it was saturated in now. He wanted peace.

"No…"He whispered softly.

The Dark Lord sighed and ran a hand through his wet hair. His situation was becoming more complicated than it needed to be. Why couldn't the priest-child just admit that he was defeated? That old man was destroying him and Demetri didn't even seem to care! If he wasn't his mate, he would have abandoned him long ago. Demetri's frail shoulders shuddered beneath his hands and the teen began to cough, hard hacking that forced him to his knees on the soaked pavement. Voldemort gathered him up in his arms but the coughing continued until a thick, foul black liquid burst from his lungs to splatter down the hand that Demetri held in shock against his mouth. The emerald eyes were wide and fearful. Crimson intermingled with the fluid and Demetri gasped in air painfully as fast as he could. Voldemort picked the weak and trembling priest up and apparated away.

~ o ~

Consciousness flitted in and out like a dream within a dream. Demetri woke slowly, clutching something tightly in his hand. When he was able to open his eyes at last, he realized that it was Voldemort's hand. He groaned as his head attempted to pull itself apart.

"Just rest, Demetri. It's all right…"

That hand stroked his head and he felt hot and cold all at once, a sign of a high fever.

"I can't…"He whispered and tried weakly to sit up.

The hand pushed him back to the plush, comfortable pillows gently.

"You are not yet well enough to get up, my precious puppet. Stay down or you may trigger another fit."

Demetri huffed but did as he was told. Voldemort smiled and touched his large silver cross, observing the thing as if it were a piece of art and he were a great collector. Demetri, for one, was very surprised. The cross, blessed especially for his holy cause by the Vatican and his Excellency himself, was made with the purest silver and crystal with a hollow body filled with holy water and pieces of garlic cloves. It was inscribed with runes of protection. Come Devil, demon or herd of elephants he was protected. He had similar runes running down his spine and in a circle where his heart was, They branched out to curve over his shoulders and down towards his belly button. The runes on his skin were not for protection but for sealing. Sealing his Incubus inside.

"You can touch it…" He whispered in confusion, to which Voldemort merely chuckled with a shake of his head.

"Of course I can. It is beautiful. I've seen nothing else like it."

This wasn't possible. Dumbledore had told him that Voldemort, the Wind of Death, was a demon from the Devil's very inner circle. If this were so, his enemy should not have been able to bear the touch of a blessed cross against his skin. But the cross was still in his grip.

"I supposed you though me some demon determined to pave the way for your Satan." The Dark Lord laughed, sitting on the edge of the bed.

"Well…that was what I was told."

"Sorry to disappoint you. I may be no demon but you are my mate whether you like it or not. Actually, if you would let yourself, you would enjoy it a great deal."

Demetri glared, rolling over so he didn't have to look at the odious man. He would not submit.

"Sorry to disappoint you. I am no adulterer and I will not engage in sex before marriage. I also took a vow of celibacy when I took my vows. If I gave into my demon nature, I would have to kill myself."

The man gave him an eloquent look.

"You are doing an excellent job of that already, my love, " He hissed in frustration, "Did you ever think that maybe, if it were not in your God's plan that we would not be mates in the first place? That you were given to me to do some good?"

His statement made Demetri pause in thought. Perhaps…He would pray on it. Suicide was a sin too. He had always assumed that he would be damned for what he was but Voldemort had a very good point. If he had no chance of salvation, then why was he here? He wanted to live and he wanted to do good in the world. Calming the rage of the Darkest Lord in history seemed like a way to help millions.

~ o ~

Demetri was able to eat some soup over the watchful gaze of the Dark Lord the next morning. The man had not slept nor had he left his side since then. Demetri wondered how long he would last before succumbing to exhaustion. Probably a while. Did Voldemort even need sleep? He had been somewhat surprised when he had been brought a stack of books to read.

"I thought you may like some entertainment. You must be bored."

Demetri took the books with a smile. The Dark Lord was trying to care for him.

"Thank you." He said gratefully before settling in to read.

'A History of the Dark Ages' was truly fascinating and 'Magical Creatures and their Habits' was an interesting read. Voldemort had bookmarked the section on Incubi and had highlighted the paragraph detailing ways that they could avoid full feedings or calm their hunger. It even told about mates and the connection they shared. Demetri was so intrigued that he read the whole section on Incubi front to back twice. Voldemort watched him as he read and only after he finished did he look up to meet his gaze.

"I don't know if I can be your mate like you want me to. The book says I have no choice or I'll die but I'm not sure that I can be the way you want me to." He finally admitted.

Voldemort stood up from his plush chair, walking over to kiss his forehead. Demetri tried not to dwell on how soft those lips were against his skin and how it tingled afterwards. It made his pulse speed in his chest.

"I want you just as you are. It wouldn't matter if you were the Pope himself and tried to kill me every day, I would still care about you."

Demetri smiled lightly.

"His Excellency would certainly have something to say about that."

"Indeed."

~ o ~

Demetri stared at the window in his bedroom darkly, listening to the sound of his door softly opening and closing. He suppressed the depressed sigh. His body was so tired and every time Tom walked into the room, his inner demon went crazy, the hunger clawing at the inside of his body and making it extremely difficult to stay in the same room as the put out Dark Lord. Said Dark Lord, it seemed had had enough of his reluctance.

"I know why you're here," He whispered to the silent man standing behind him while he sat on his bed, " And I won't submit. I am not going to give myself away just to live alittle longer. I won't do it. I would rather the Lord take me where I stand." The priest said calmly, seeming to accept his fate.

Tom had other plans however.

"I won't let you die, Demetri. I can't."

The man's voice sounded tense and almost desperate. Demetri stood up, somewhat surprised. Tom was going…to force him? His psyche seemed to have warring thoughts on this. In his heart, he felt the icy chill of fear and hurt but his Incubus blood thrilled at the thought bringing several erotic images to mind so strong he nearly crumbled beneath them. The weight of Tom's gaze on his own was suffocating and he could feel his blood begin to burn as it always did when his mate was in close proximity. A matured, unmated Incubus was not usually that way for long and he had defied the laws of nature and his heritage to stay pure for as long as he had. He had been terrified of allowing himself to be tainted by an animal but…Tom wasn't an animal. He wasn't a demon at all, despite what Dumbeldore had told him to the contrary. Everything suddenly felt too hot as Tom stepped forward and Demetri found himself pressed against the bedroom wall. Tom held his hands in a vice out in front of him, using the other hand to run through the teen's hair.

"I can't let you die." Tom whispered before his lips were smothering Demetri's and sanity seemed to take a flying leap for a long moment while the boy tried his hardest to regain a thought that wasn't filled with lust and heat.

They parted for air at last and Demetri felt himself picked up and deposited on his bed, whimpering and wide eyed. He had no idea it was possible to be so terrified and yet so aroused all at once. It was such a foreign concept to him.

"Please, Tom…Don't do this. I don't want this, I don't want to be a demon…"He plead brokenly as the man settled above him tenderly.

Tom looked regretful but shook his head weakly.

"I promised you that I wouldn't let anything happen to you. If it makes you hate me in the end, then…so be it. I'm sorry…" He whispered, leaning down near his ear.

Demetri moaned softly at the closeness and the heat he felt radiating off of his mate. His blood was racing in his ears. Tom looked down at his white collar with a glare before tearing it away, flinging it to the floor. He hated everything it stood for. That old man had used Demetri's faith to mould him into some sick suicide puppet for his amusements, keeping him away from his mate. It was because of the old man that Demetri was dying because he refused to feed. It was the old man that had given him that foul poison, knowing Demetri would overdose on it to force away his Incubus and that it would corrode his system. Well no longer!

He went to quick work with the buttons of Demetri's outer and inner shirts, peeling them back so he could admire the flushed ivory flesh beneath. When he reached out and ran a teasing finger across the teen's collarbone and down to where the runes were tattooed around his heart, a strangled moan of desire escaped the priest. Tom could feel his heart hammering beneath the runes and breathed a gasp of his own undisguised lust. Demetri saw the look in his eyes for what it was and shook his head whispering a soft, desperate 'Don't'. Tom's resolve was set however. He wouldn't allow that old man to steal Demetri from him again. So he continued and leaned down to breath along the gorgeous expanse of the boy's pale neck, delivering kisses, bites and tantalizing licks as he went. Demetri was making more noises than the Dark Lord could stand and immediately began to feel as if he were wearing too many layers.

As he continued to worship the body beneath him, he divested himself of his robe and tie. To his surprise, Demetri's shaking hands jerked up from where they had been clenched painfully in the bed sheets and tore his shirt open so he could run his hands over the smooth chest of his mate. Tom shivered and leaned down to capture one of the tight nipples in his mouth. His mate arched up with a cry of pleasure and he could barely resist tearing the boy's remaining clothes from him and taking him there. But he had to wait. He wanted Demetri's first time to be unrushed and while it may not be willing, it would be enjoyable for him. If he rushed, it would be painful and Demetri would never forgive him. Tom wanted him to want to come back for more. His hands ran over every inch of exposed flesh, mapping it and owning it, before they came to stop at the waistband of his pants.

Tom himself was stretched painfully within the confines of his own clothes so he knew that Demetri had to be in agony by now. He pulled the offending trousers down slowly, drawing more gasps an writhing from his partner. What he had done to deserve such a beautiful mate, he would never know. He tossed the pants and boxers to the floor an looked up, stunned into silence by the sight that met him. Demetri was laid across his bed, fully aroused and writhing against his sheets. The two shirts had been pulled back only so he was still halfway clothed and his eyes, now a glowing green with amber around the inner edges, were filled with passion and need. Demetri's pink tongue flicked out to moisten his lips at the intense gaze he was leveled with before his nature took over and he finally jerked the Dark Lord up for a searing kiss, shoving every bit of his need into his mate.

~ o ~

Tom awoke slowly and without care. He had warded the room the night before so Demetri couldn't slip out while he was asleep. Not before they'd had their little talk at least. None the less, the priest's side of the bed was cold and empty. He could hear the sounds of the shower and – was he imagining it?- the muffles sounds of tears. His stomach wrenched in guilt but he shoved it away. He had to save him. He wouldn't let Demetri die. Tom stood, ignoring the languorous feeling that begged him to curl back up in bed with his beautiful puppet in his arms. Instead, he sighed and walked over to the bathroom door, opening it cautiously. Steam billowed on the inside and the sounds of rinsing could be heard. He paused in front of the open shower and just watched Demetri for a long moment. The teen chose to be silent and couldn't seem to bring himself to look at him. Tom could see the angry red skin where he had scrubbed at his skin viciously and turned the water up as high as it could safely go. Trying to wash Tom's essence from his body.

"I'm sorry." Tom said softly, just loud enough to be heard over the water.

"It isn't my forgiveness you need, Tom."

Demetri's voice was quiet and he could hear a small tremor in the Incubi's breath.

"But it's only your forgiveness I seek."

The water stilled at last and Tom reached out to him, only to find the teen suddenly trembling against the far shower wall, warding him off desperately with outstretched hands. Demetri's eyes were pleading but mixed in with the fear was an insatiable desire. Tom understood quickly. He wasn't keeping him away because he despised him, although he may, he was doing it because he could feel that aching burn coursing inside him at just the thought of Tom's touch. Newborns needed to feed often, the Dark Lord recalled. For the time though, he backed away and gave the grateful Demetri his space. He heard the boy issue a prayer from between clenched teeth. Demetri would never accept him if he pushed too hard too fast. He instead grabbed a large fluffy towel and handed it through to him, trying to ignore how delicious the priest looked all wet and pressed against the tile. He summoned him some clothes, as well as a pair of pants for himself. No need to make him uncomfortable. He wasn't sure if the priest would rather his usual habit or something cleaner so he left both options on the counter. With a parting smile, offering what little comfort he could, Tom left the room.

Demetri emerged after a long, worrying ten minutes wearing the t-shirt and sweatpants Tom had summoned for him. He knew the teen would be more comfortable in muggle clothes than in wizarding robes but even so, his dear one looked small and uncomfortable in them, like a child playing pretend with daddy's clothes. With an unsure pause at the edge of the bed, Demetri sighed and crawled in under the covers.

"You already have my forgiveness." Was the strained whisper that came.

Tom nodded but stared him down.

"But you wish you hadn't given it."

He received no response only a slightly depressed look. His silence was enough. Demetri tugged on his clothes uncomfortably to which Tom thought he saw a blush before the teen ducked his head. He smiled alittle.

"I felt like a fake when I put my clothes back on. Like a failure."

Tom frowned, pushing a strand of the dark damp hair behind Demetri's ear.

"You're not a fake or a failure. Your heritage is something neither of us can help. We cannot change it or alter our needs in any way."

"I'm an adulterer." He spat in self loathing to which Tom just scoffed dismissively.

"No you're not. I was going to mate and marry you this whole time. As long as you don't take anyone else to bed, then you remain adultery free."

Demetri looked annoyed and dismayed, perhaps even alittle amused.

"I don't think it works like that." He said flatly and the Dark Lord just smirked.

"For Incubi it does."

Demetri allowed him to pull him close and curl up for sleep, shoving his hunger to the back of his mind for the time. His hand came to rest on the man's bare shoulder though and he couldn't stifle his moan of need. He pondered over the Dark Lord's words as the man smirked into his neck and began to do wicked things with the flesh there. A small smile lifted the corner of his mouth. That man…, he thought with some amusement before letting his lust take him. He was going to need another shower.


	26. Caring

A/N: Okays, this is an adopted!Harry fic and it's Voldie/Harry but it's a father/son and HP/SS thing. If you have a problem with that sort of story (as I have no doubt some of you will, which is perfectly alright of course), then please skip this chapter and enjoy the next. Thank you!

Warning: incest? Slash

Disclaimer: Nope!

Prompt049-Caring

Alex slipped into his father's study, his eyes devouring the sight of the man he adored dozing on his couch. Voldemort had fallen asleep on the small lay out with his shoes kicked off and his hair in disarray. Alex smiled. His shoes made no noise as he padded over the carpet. The Dark Lord didn't even stir as he pushed a stray lock of hair away. He sighed lightly.

"Father…Can you hear me?"

No answer. His father slept soundly. The man did love his sleep. Alex felt a blush creep up his face when he imagined just what he could do then. His heart began to race as he entertained the absurd thought. His father would be so angry if he ever found out. The thought was so crazy…that he actually did it. He kissed him. So softly that it was barely a brush of the lips. The feeling of what he had dreamed of for so long sent his mind reeling. He became dizzy with the sensation. He jerked away. Embarrassed by his actions, Alex got up and crossed the room to the window parallel to the couch. His sigh this time was heavy and sorrow filled.

"What do you do when you fall in love with your father…?" He whispered to himself.

As Alex left his parent's study, he didn't see the crimson eyes on his back.

~ o ~

Voldemort paced around his room, his thoughts filled withhis son. Alex was under some fanciful notion that he was in love with him. Wonderful. As if Bellatrix wasn't enough. Severus watched with a frown from his sofa.

"My Lord, are you well?" He asked with real concern.

Voldemort looked at the vampire.

"Yes, yes, I'm fine Severus. What was it you needed to speak to me about?"

"It's about Alex."

Figures. Of course it would be about Alex. Why not. He waved for him to continue, sipping on his brandy. It had not been a good night. His son's revelation had dismayed and upset him. Something about that kiss just unnerved him a most unpleasant way. Severus's face was still but purposely left open so his Master could read his expressions and thoughts. This struck the Dark Lord as an omen. Snape was always so closed off.

"I would like your permission to begin courting Alex."

In all of the things his life time friend and most trusted advisor could say, that was definitely not what he had expected. He stared at the man and his surprise was only evident in his raised eyebrows. Severus seemed to sense this and calmly continued.

"I know that there is quite an age difference between your son and I but I am willing to accept any trial that may come our way. I want to make Alex happy and I am convinced that I can." He said, looking him straight in the eyes.

His speech left his Lord wincing on the inside. Alex would be so angry and upset. Then again, perhaps this was best. It would help Alex find someone else to focus his attentions on. He had been with no one but his parent for too long. He chalked up his unwilling hesitancy to Alex being his only child. His only son. His heir. Something inside of him was begging him not to give Alex up but he squashed it down mercilessly. He had admitted that he did have a certain possessivenesss over his son that would take some dealing with. He wasn't used to having to share Alex's attentions. He looked at the potions master blankly.

"You will protect him, I know, but you must realize, Severus, that Alex is the only child I have. He is my heir and a part of me. Do you understand what I am saying?"

The man looked confused at first but after a moment of thought, his face slackened and his eyes widened in shock. Snape gaped at him like a fish. It would have been funny if the topic weren't so serious.

"Alex? He's a…" He stammered.

Voldemort nodded.

"Yes. My son is a Horcrux. As you can understand, that brings about a few interesting issues. Alex is closer to me than anyone, Severus. He is my greatest treasure and I must know that you will be completely loyal, if not to me, than to him. If the Order of the Flaming Chicken ever gets hold of who he is, they will search him out and take him from us. They will destroy him. Can you give me that assurance? Can you do that?" He asked calmly, downing the rest of his drink.

He poured himself some more brandy. His Advisor nodded and a look of seriousness overtook his expression.

"Then…I give you my permission."

Severus stood and bowed. His master didn't listen to his thanks, he only heard the door close with a resounding click. As soon as the vampire was out of the room, Alex's father squeezed his glass until it shattered in his hand. Why did his heart ache so much if that was a good idea?

~ o ~

Alex had heard his father's distress and left the library quickly. He'd felt the pain. The teen opened the study door for the second time that day. The Dark Lord held his hand angrily, blood dripping thickly from his fingers.

"Father! What happened?" He cried in true worry and ran to the man who had raised him.

Voldemort shrugged nonchalantly.

"I got angry. Patch me up, will you, Alex? You know that I'm rubbish at healing. You're much better at it than I am."

His son muttered something unintellegible before grabbing his injured hand. Gently, Alex drew his wand and began to remove all of the glass embedded in the lacerations. It looked painful. What could have made him so mad that he did this? All the while, Tom thought. Alex was going to be angry when he learned that he had given the go ahead for his courting. That much was obvious. Then again, it would be good for him. He needed to get this absurd notion from his head. Besides, Alex may refuse Severus's attentions in the end. He wounds were being lathered with a clear ointment and Tom took a moment to relish in the feel of Alex's smaller hands running up and down his own. It felt nice…The teen's hands had slowed. They didn't see theblack eyes watching them. Alex looked down to hide his blush at the whole situation but gasped at the sight of the blood on his hands. Tom smiled a little before dragging him off to the bathroom sink to wash.

~ o ~

Alex was in his room playing with Kitten when Severus came in. He raised an eyebrow curiously and got up off of the bed.

"Severus? What are you doing here?"

The vampire smiled sardonically.

"Can I not come to see my Prince every now and then?" He chuckled while reaching over to scratch the meowing cat behind it's ears.

Alex looked at the floor and then back at him. Severus couldn't blame him for being suspicious. He had never had a reason to visit before.

"Aside from the pleasure of your company, Alex, I do have one other reason for my visit. I've come in hopes that you would hear me out with an open mind."

The teen gestured for him to sit by him on the bed and he accepted gratefully. Despite the centuries of life he had experienced, Severus found himself nervous. It was obvious how Alex felt about his father but the vampire hoped he would at least be given a chance. He would not be deterred at any rate.

"I suppose asking if you wanted a drink would be redundant." The teen joked lightly.

Severus allowed himself a smile. He could tell that he had made Alex somewhat anxious and he had to confess that he was probably just as nervous if not more. He had never had the need for courting, completely assured in his solitary existance. As he watched time pass, however, he had begun to long for a companion. He wanted what he had missed when all of the other vampires had gone to find their mates. Ever since the moment of Alex's birth, which he had delivered himself so long ago in the tiny cottage in Godric's Hollow, he had singled Alex out as the companion of his life. It was the reason he had given the Potter's position away to the Dark Lord. He had known that the man was beginning to long for a companion just as much as he was. They could kill three birds with one stone.

His hopefully future mate was watching him with that captivating gaze of his that could make any man or woman, even an immortal like him, catch his breath.

"I realize," He began quietly, "that I am significantly older than you. My immortality aside, I even delivered you into this world. As soon as I first saw you, I knew that it was you that would have my dedication and devotion forever. That is why, with your father's permission, I have come to ask you to accept my courtship." He said at last with the anxiety building inside of him.

He could have sworn that Alex's jaw dropped. His Prince certainly had not been expecting that! Severus thought for a second that he had seen not happiness or revulsion in Alex's eyes, but despair. He knew why his Prince would feel such a thing.

"My father…gave you permission?" He asked and he couldn't hide the quiver in his voice.

Severus nodded and was unable to keep his hand from reaching out to stroke the dark hair comfortingly. Alex was a soldier though. He reigned in his heartbreak and pulled himself together admirably. He smiled up at the potions master. It hurt him to see Alex have to hide how he really felt. There had never been any sort of hiding or untruths between them.

"I really am flattered, Severus and I appreciate your attentions,"

Severus's heart began to sink. Of course he would say no. He was several years his senior after all and being with a vampire was never expected to be easy. There was their hunger to deal with and then the whole issue of the mate dying if they stayed human…

"I accept." Alex finished with a small smile.

Surprise coursed through him. He'd thought Alex would say no! He accepted! The feeling that burst his heart was unexplainable. On the outside, he smiled lovingly and caught the blush rising in the boys cheeks.

"Thank you. You can't know what this means to me, Alex." He admitted.

The young Prince's smile widened but he sensed that his thoughts were not completely with him.

~ o ~

He felt his son's presence before he saw him. The Dark lord sighed. Oh boy. As if in response to his thoughts, the door imploded in on itself and Alex came through furiously.

"You-! You told him that it was okay? How could you do that?"

His angry yells startled Nagini out from under the bed. Voldemort's eyes were hard and his skin began to mottle like scales in some places along his arms and neck. He did not like being spoken to that way.

"I felt it was best." He replied calmly despite his evident displeasure and turned back toward his desk.

Alex, however, was not in the least bit pleased either. He really didn't like being turned away from like he was not important during a very important conversation. Was he not important enough to look at during this conversation? His father was such an ass sometimes! His temper reached boiling fast, despite the fact that his head was beginning to feel light and fluffy, probably from all the screaming.

"Bullshit! Best for me or best for you?"

Uh-oh. His father spun back around, glaring, a full out hiss issuing from his lips. Oh he was mad now. His thin elegant hands were twisted into fists. The prince would not be deterred, though. He refused to back down!

"What are you implying, Alexander Riddle?" He hissed, his words bordering on parsletongue in his fury.

The question only succeeded in making the teenager angrier than before.

"You know exactly what I'm implying! You sell me off to Severus to seal your alliance with the vampires!"

The anger deflated from the man in an instant as he stared at his distressed son. Was that what Alex thought? While he had thought of that scenario, that wasn't what prompted him to give away his only child. Alex's preoccupation with him was unhealthy and while he could easily pass it off as a side effect of their bond, at some point it became all of Alex's feelings. It didn't help that he was a hormonal teenager.

"I didn't think that at all, precious," He whispered and beckoned the boy forward into his arms. Alex eyes were full of tears now and most of his anger was dissipating into frustration, " I just wanted to find you someone that will be good to you. Severus really loves you and he's practically helped raise you. I want you to have someone you can love."

Alex pushed him back against the desk and his emerald eyes were spilling their despair over his cheeks.

"I love you! No one else! I can only ever love you!" He cried, gripping his father's clothes as if he would never let go.

The man held his shaking hands in a vain attempt to loosen them before he hurt himself. Alex's hands were hot to the touch. His son hated to be hot. He felt feverish.

"I know…" He whispered and, even to him, his voice sounded tortured, "That's why I had to give you up. Otherwise, I would never let anyone else call you theirs…"

Voldemort stared Alex straight in the eyes before unhooking his hands from his clothes and stepped away. The boy just looked confused and sick. Now that he stepped back and looked, Alex looked ill indeed.

"I don't understand…"

The teen suddenly felt dizziness overtake him and his eyes fought to stay on the man he adored. His father shook his head sadly.

"Alex, you know this is impossible. I cannot love you as more than my child. I'm your father. That aside, I'm sixty years older than you. I killed your birth parents. "The Dark Lord pleaded his case desperately.

"YOU ARE MY PARENT! I don't care about any of that stuff! I don't care. I don't care…I don't care…" He said but blackness closed in on his vision and he felt himself hit the floor.

Vaguely, he heard his name being called and as he slipped away, he didn't even notice that it was his beloved parent that caught him and held him tight.

~ o ~

Severus felt his Lord's summoning while down in the dungeons. He had been working up a blood replenishing potion and thinking on what he had witnessed between his future mate and Voldemort. Alex was obviously in love with the man and was attracted to Severus in some way. His father was somewhat more difficult. Even if the man himself denied and ignored it, he did love Alex. There was no way to avoid a romantic relationship between them. They were perfect for each other and when the fact that Alex contained a piece of his soul, it was unavoidable. Tom was stubborn, though. Anger and desperation suddenly shocked through him through the mark on his arm from his Lord. Looking at the Dark Mark, he shuddered in pleasure. He couldn't wait until Alex carried his Mating Mark. It was something he dreamed about at night and woke up hard. He grabbed his potions bag just in case his assistance was required and rushed off to see what had happened. It took no time at all to get to the Dark Lord's quarters, since he already knew where they were. He had come here often when Alex was an infant. He and Tom had taken care of the mischievous little thing. He opened the door and his eyes widened in distress. Unconscious on the floor, Alex lay in his father's arms gently being rocked back and forth. He was pale and cold sweat covered him. Severus could smell the fever on him and he could see the tiny tremors that shook his beloved's frail body. Voldemort was tenderly trying to rouse him to no avail. He looked at his friend desperately.

"Help me Severus! I don't know what's wrong with him. He was fine when he arrived! Yelling and everything!" He exclaimed.

The vampire rushed to fill a syringe with fever repressors. He carefully injected the stuff into the fragile looking boy. Next came some painkillers, just in case. Inside, he was torn.

How had he not noticed Alex was coming down with something? What type of mate would he be if he didn't see things like that? He would have to be more alert from now on. After all, Alex was only human…No matter who's soul he had inside of him. He watched the teenager's father, his soon to be father in law, carry him to bed and tuck him in. Severus allowed himself a moment to notice that the bed he was in was Voldemort's own while he transfigured the boy's clothes into pajamas. The man stood silently beside him for a time, watching him do a full check up on his child. He stroked the boy's head once.

"Do you think, my friend, that it would be easier for Alex…if I left for a small span? Give him some time. Until you propose that is."

Snape looked at him and didn't bother to hide his astonishment. Was he crazy?

"I think it would destroy him if you left. It would break his heart but I also believe that if you did come back eventually, he would heal. He may never forgive you, but he would heal. Am I assuming correctly that you want me to propose to your heir, even though I'm a vampire?"

"It's partly because you're a vampire that I chose you to court him. He likes you, I know he does, and I know that you will protect him fiercely." Voldemort said, staring him down.

They watched their boy sleep fitfully, both of their minds crowded with him.

~ o ~

Alex was bedridden for the next four days. During that time, Severus spent almost every moment at his side. He talked to him until he fell asleep, helped him with his assignments and made Alex laugh so hard that he almost forgot why he was upset. But in his dreams, there was no escape. His father's words haunted him and he awoke feeling just as unrested as when he had laid down. Occasionally, Alex would wake to see Severus holding the sentry by his bed. Often, his father was there too. He looked thin and drawn. On the fifth day, he was pronounced well enough to get out of bed, much to his relief. He wanted to run and fly and be outside.

Severus had retired to his rooms for some work. The Prince was strolling down the hallways on his way to the terrace when a thought struck him. The urge was so strong that it stopped his movements completely. He wanted to see his father. He wanted to see his father right now. Alex turned right around and decided to check on Sev first. The man's rooms were on the way to his Father's after all. He walked slowly to his future lover's rooms. Severus was not resting but was leaning over the fireplace talking to someone. The head popped audibly out of existence as he approached. Severus looked up and saw him and a look of despair settled on his face. Alex felt fear fill his chest. What could possibly be so bad that Severus looked at him like that? He had never see the potions master look like that before. It was frightening. Something told him that it would be bad.

"Alex…" He whispered, letting the teen burrow into his arms.

"What is it, Sev? What's happened?"

The vampire sighed, running a hand through his hair.

"Your father was called away. He's gone traveling, to get his allies from other countries in order for the war."

Traveling? The words didn't seem to want to register but he felt his heart sinking terribly.

"He won't be back for some time…He's asked me to take care of you in his absence."


	27. Crimson

AN: Okies, this is me trying my hand at one of my new favorite pairings. I kind of scoffed at the pairing at first until I actually read one. I was HOOKED. Tell me what you think cause I'm considering a full length story! It's Riddick/Harry and it's SLASH. Creature!Harry (of course! Lol). This is a Chronicles of RiddickXHP and it spans the length of all three movies.

Prompt 010-Crimson

The Dark Side Of The Moon- Pitch Black

There's just something about animals that I get. It's a predator thing. All animals want the same thing. To survive above all else. There's also something about innocence. I'm not talking about the virginal kind although that has it's own unique scent. Naw. I'm talking about the innocence of a pure soul. Been a long time since I've smelled that. Never smelled all three in the same package. It was some interesting kind of coincidence that that package just fell into my lap. Literally.

O + O

Harry groaned, standing from where he had fallen from the "cryo-coffin", as he liked to call them. It seemed the other passengers were beginning to wake as well, though their own chambers did not vomit them out. He was just lucky then, he guessed. He cursed muggle technology under his breath. Harry had just started to look around, taking note of the damage to the ship as well as the flashing red lights and the precariously tilting floor. Harry was just turning to go see the Captain when they struck something hard. The floor beneath him suddenly seized upwards, throwing him into something firm and hard enough to make him see stars for a few moments. The noise all around him was deafening and his stomach dropped as he realized two things at once. One, they had just crash landed. Two, there was a chain now wrapped securely around his neck.

Of course, being the stupid Gryffindor and too curious for his own good, he turned to see what it was that had caught him up in the crash. His breath seized in his throat as he came eye to eye with a pair of shined silver orbs. His own eerily, inhuman emerald eyes widened and he could feel his pupils lengthening, slitting like a cat's as instinct overrode humanity in the face of the alpha predator before him. Instinctively, he bared his throat to the aggressive dominant, correcting his thinking once he could actually think again. Who had caught him. The stranger leaned down into his exposed neck, inhaling his scent like a bloodhound.

"Interesting." Came a deep, disused voice rumbling from the chest Harry had fallen against.

A commotion of voices, angry ones and frightened ones, came towards them. The chain hit the floor and just as quickly, the stranger was gone leaving Harry to pick up the shreds of his humanity before the crew realized that they had something less than human and just as deadly as the murderer they harbored on board.

Harry felt himself shoved brutally against the bone wall, wondering how on earth this could have happened. His skin was unbearably hot, feeling as if it were burnt. His whole body was raw and aching and not at all pleasant as the three suns beat down on them all. Riddick must think him so weak now…He whimpered in agony as Johns slammed his gun against his frail chest once more, pinning him to the side of the torn ship.

"What the hell are you? You're just as human as those things that ate Zeke, aren't you?" When Harry pitifully opened his eyes and the wretched Merc could see his slitted eyes, the man swore under his breath, "What the fuck are you?"

"He's mine." Came a low deadly voice from behind Johns, just as a shiv slipped against the man's neck from behind, "And I suggest you don't forget it, Johns. Don't need a repeat of our last little misunderstanding, now do we?"

The threat was real and he could see his attacker try and fight to keep his face stoic. Harry nearly sobbed in relief to see Riddick standing up in his defense. The thought of being weak before this powerful, strong man made Harry hurt inside, feeling pathetic and weak. Why would Riddick want anything to do with him now that he had been proven to be just as useless as the other humans of their odd little team? His lip trembled as Johns lowered his gun, allowing Harry just enough room to slide into the nearest protective shadow, curling in over his wounded chest with a whimper. He didn't watch as Johns stormed away nor as Riddick stood watching him.

"Why didn't you say that you're sick? In that condition your easy prey for whatever it is that's living here, not to mention that they'll want to take apiece of you once Johns goes and reports what you are. They'll want to kill you just as much as they wanna kill me. Any sign of weakness. Do you understand?" His rumbling voice came from above as his boots came into Harry's line of vision.

The teen nodded but winced in pain.

"Yea, I get it. It's just…the light. It burns…"He hated how pathetic he sounded as he bit off his sentenced with a pleading whimper.

The shadow he was in offered little protection from the three suns overhead. He needed shade, darkness, protection…Without further notice, Riddick hauled him off of the ground and somehow they made it inside the ship though the particulars were somewhat fuzzy. One moment he was outside in the cruel sun and the next he was curled in the soothing, cool darkness of the craft, curled like an infant in Riddick's lap. An infant…or a pet. And now that he wasn't burning to death, he had to admit that what he wanted to do to Riddick was far from being childlike. Now that he was safely sequestered away from the suffocating, poisonous light, he could feel a heat of another kind overtaking his senses. The convict holding him upright in his lap didn't miss the strangled gasp nor the spike in his body temperature, especially when Harry suddenly jerked, trying desperately to get away from him. He had to get away from him! He had to escape before he really shamed himself in front of the alpha before him. He refused to let Riddick see him as a creature controlled by his baser instincts. He would not let his heat overcome his self control! Riddick would not see him as some rutting bitch if he could help it. Unfortunately, Riddick realized rather quickly that something was up and restrained him against the side of the wall quickly. Harry hissed furiously. How many times was he going to end up against walls today? Though he had to admit that being pressed against one with a strong, hard body as opposed to a gun was much more diverting. He shook his head, trying to shake off the lust beginning to cloud his brain. No! His movements jerked to a stop when Riddick's face was suddenly against his exposed neck, scenting him curiously.

"Very interesting…" The convict whispered huskily.

Harry keened low in his throat. Of course, Fate hated him so much that whatever it was about Riddick that made him the predator that he was, the alpha inside him, was affected by the Valine pheromones that he seemed to ooze when he was in season. Harry wondered vaguely if Riddick even knew what he was scenting. He had to get away. Before his pheremones forced Riddick to do something he would regret. That he would regret though Harry surely wouldn't. He gave Riddick an apologetic gaze before slipping into the shadows and disappearing.

Harry came back out right behind Shaaza, startling the unsuspecting crowd and earning three guns pointed his way. Johns lowered it hesitantly when he saw Riddick walking their way looking deadly and full of purpose. Jack was staring at Harry in awe and amazement.

"How the fuck can I learn to do that?" He asked with open mouthed wonder.

Harry smiled at him lightly, trying not to feel the suffocating sun bearing down upon him nor the interesting way that the ground seemed to tilt to the side.

"Sorry Jack, you either have it or don't."

The teen gave an 'aw shucks' sort of huff before being thoroughly distracted by Riddick when he slid over to rejoin humanity. Well, most of them were human. Harry still had serious doubts about the convict himself. They began to break up to scavenge whatever could be used from the crash, each passenger eyeing Harry now just as cautiously as they eyed Riddick. He sighed, heading to find the nearest dark spot alone, unaware of the two pairs of eyes that watched him calculating and curious, neither was he aware of the figure who followed him like a demon loosed from hell, bent on getting his answers one way or another.

The Dark Side of the Moon- Volume 2: Chronicles of Riddick

I was finding a place up in the falls to wait out feeding time when I caught a familiar, tantalizing scent. It had been a long time since I smelled that scent. The soft but sharp 'click-click-click' of nails on the metal landing did not blunt my purpose. I came to this hell hole of a slam for a reason after all.

O + O

Riddick rounded the corner, tracing the scent to a little known area, seemingly carved straight from the rock. Water was pouring down from above, odd to see on a slam like Crematoria. The sight that met him as he rounded the corner warmed his blood like it hadn't since they'd been stranded on that god forsaken planet.

O + O

Harry heard the light footsteps come around the bend and smirked. Another convict with a death wish, eh? Must be new. Everyone else here knew that he was off limits. Not because he was imposing enough to scare them off, although as a Valine he could easily disembowel a frisky inmate, but because of the huge wolf creatures that treated him like their puppy. Harry had taken to calling them Rovers and had seen them eat a few inmates in his honor when someone had copped a feel. When the other canines were called back to their cages, the alpha female stayed with Harry so he was protected through the night. They would attack anything that came within five feet of him. When he didn't hear the sounds of ripping limbs and screaming, he turned to see what was happening.

O + O

It had been so long since I had seen my runaway mate that it was literally a shock to my system to turn around and suddenly find myself met with shined silver orbs. I couldn't control the Freudian slip that alerted him to the fact that I had not forgotten him. Oh no. I thought of him every day. Every night. Every moment that he had been gone.

"Riddick…" It came out more as a breath than anything.

My permanent Rover was growling, baring it's enormous fangs and I shushed him grudgingly. I was suddenly aware of the cascading water falling on me, my lithe shirtless form and the pants that were soaked through, leaving nothing to the imagination. Riddick seemed especially aware of it as well. It had been five years since we had parted ways at New Mecca. He, to outrun the Mercs on his tail, and I, to heal after the disaster on the planet and to wait for him to return. Four years I waited for him. Four years I looked after Jack, hoping that my mate would return. The fifth year, when the pain started building in my chest and my breath would come short from the pain of my absent mate, I was brought to Crematoria in Jack's place, scared and alone, needing his touch more than ever.

I was aware of the changes I had undergone in those five years. I went from uncertain, skinny and submissive to determined, lithe and defiant. My own inborn Valine abilities had matured over time, my eyes were even more spectacular than before and my dark hair now crept to the base of my spine in a curtain. My skin was tanned but baby fine. Needless to say, I had more than a few admirers at Crematoria, hence my need for the Rover at my side. Riddick was slowly taking in all of these changes with a calculating eye that made me bristle. I was his mate, not a piece of meat at the butcher!

"Fancy seeing you here." I said coldly, stepping out from beneath the fall to grab the shirt I had set aside.

~ o ~

Harry cracked his eyes open slowly, his head pounding and his body sluggish from whatever drug those Necrobastards had dosed him with. He brought a hand tenderly to his head and realized with a shock that he wasn't in the same grimy clothes that he had been in on Crematoria. His long hair was in a thick, tight French braid, curled like a snake on the bed sheets. He was clean, free if the dirt and sweat that was everyday in the prison. Harry was wearing some sort of odd, stiff outfit that was in the Necromonger style. A metal spine clung tightly to his back, holding the skin tight material flush against his flesh. Just the same, there were metal ribs curling around his chest and upper stomach, accenting the lithe physique. His arms were left bare and the material beneath the metal bones fell in a curtain between his legs, a slit up the sides stopping at his hips where a mimickery of hip bones held the breathable pants in place. All of it was done in the traditional black, grey and silver Necro colors.

He tried not to think of someone changing him while he was sleeping as he got up off of the rather sizable bed he'd found himself on. The room he was in was large and elegant, though aloof and cold. With a sickening thought, he realized that he was on a Necromonger ship and the last he'd seen of his mate, Riddick had been unconscious in the molten path of the sun's rays. Had Riddick made it back in time? Was he…gone? Harry choked back a sob and glared at the door, his fury making his wavering vision clear and focus. He didn't feel the loss of his mate, though there was no telling what those bastards had done to him while he was out. However, if Riddick really was…gone, then he knew exactly who would bear the brunt of his fury. It had been a while since he had seen one mass genocide.

He made his way slowly to the door, opening it lightly. It lead into an office, decorated much like the bedroom. Unfortunately, unlike the last room, this room was not empty. Four pairs of eyes swiveled to him. One was the Commander from Crematoria, the one who had grabbed him. Beside him was a woman, filled with cold beauty and ambition and another inconsequential soldier. It was the third occupant of the room that had his hackles raised in wariness and defense. The man was clearly a leader. He held authority around him like a cloak. Definitely an alpha dog. But the lust and hunger in his eyes when he looked at Harry forced a feral hiss from the Valine, his pupils lengthening.

"Oh, he is beautiful, my Lord." The woman simpered, stepping back in fright when Harry flashed fangs at her.

The Commander stepped in front of her protectively. The Lord Marshal smirked, eye raping Harry as the Valine tried frantically and fruitlessly to Shadow Phase from the room.

"And fiesty as well." He added before dismissing them.

Harry attempted to escape through the open door but before he could, he was grabbed from behind brutally and slammed into the table, his body bent almost double and his head pressed into the various maps and notations spread out on the desk.

"And where do you think you're going?" Came the sickeningly silky voice from behind him.


	28. Freedom

A/N: Okie doke! Here's a super long chapter dedicated to EmeraldGreyClouds! You rock! J This is a HarryXEdward Cullen fic with implied slash.

Disclaimer: Nope!

~~Freedom~~~

Edward watched the janitor sit with his young son outside from the cafeteria window, the two eating lunch happily together while he sat in the midst of chattering teenagers. The young parent couldn't be any older than the rest of the student body and yet he was cleaning the school instead of attending it, and he had a child. He found himself more and more intrigued by the boy. How had he come to be in his current situation? How had he come to live in Forks? And still more puzzling, why could Edward only catch his thoughts every so often? It had been a week since Harry Evans had appeared at Forks High School with his silent son at his heels and the watchful vampire was becoming more intrigued by the day.

~ o ~

Harry grinned down at Riley while they munched on some cucumber and peanut butter sandwiches. He tried to keep on a happy face for his son. After all, they were in a new place, a strange continent even. They were sharing a tiny, one bedroom apartment, despite the Potter fortune back in Britain, and Harry was working two jobs just to keep food on the table. He didn't want Riley to despair just because the situation was bleak. He always tried to teach him that it was possible to turn a bad situation into a good one as long as you had faith that things would work out. Gringotts was set to build an American branch of it's bank in a year and a half and his account was frozen so no one could access it until he personally unlocked it. They just had to make things work for another year and half and then everything would be okay again. He couldn't set foot in Britain without the Ministry snatching up both he and Riley. Bastards. But he was keeping hope. Things had to get better, they just had to.

He smiled as his five year old curled up in his lap with his juice box. Riley pointed urgently towards the shiny red apple sitting in the lunch box, his eyes widening in desire. Harry grinned.

"Uh uh, Rils, you know they rule. You have to tell me what it is that you want."

Riley looked incredulous for a moment before pointing pleadingly. When he got no where with that approach he sighed.

"Want hand. Please Daddy grass." Riley begged, reaching for the fruit.

Harry smiled brightly.

"Very good! See, you can do it! I knew you could." He praised, handing the child the apple adoringly.

Riley beamed and dove into the treat. Harry watched his son eat with a soft smile, ignoring his own discontented stomach. Ever since they had fled England, they had been living off of the little he had with him at the time and his salary from his two jobs. He worked cleaning the high school during the day, when he was able to have Riley with him, and as a waiter at night in a bar in Port Angeles. Riley stayed home but he had some friendly animal babysitters, including his Hedwig. Aside from that, the apartment was warded even heavier than Hogwarts itself and Riley slept like a rock. When Riley had started treatment, the bills had only piled up. They were barely scraping by and he often gave up his meals to make sure that Riley had enough to eat. His son needed three solid meals a day. He did not.

Riley had been born with a speech disorder called aphasia. He was receiving treatment but there was only so much that the therapists could do. He was incapable of translating his thoughts into words and often went days without speaking at all. It was just the two of them now so Harry had been making sure to engage his son in even more conversation to make up for the lack of people but he was only one person. When Riley had gotten old enough and started speaking, he had been horrified when the doctors told him that his son was what they termed "special needs". They spoke about brain damage from complications and how he may never be able to read or write. How he would always have trouble communicating. That night, he had put Riley to bed and sobbed until dawn. Then he got up, washed his face and greeted the new day, determined to give his son the best life he could. Riley was alive, he was healthy and he wouldn't let people limit his child!

He worked so hard to give Riley a home and he wanted to give him hope that he could have something better. He wanted him to believe that he was better than what people would label him as. He was greater than his disorder and he didn't have to let it determine his lot in life.

"Come on, Riley. Let's head back before it starts to rain on us."

"Butterfly?" Riley asked lightly, pointing to something out in the woods.

Harry grinned.

"The kitty will be fine. He will go home when it starts to rain and take a nap, just like little Rileys have to do!"

~ o ~

Riley was napping in the nurse's office down the hall and I was swapping out a trash bag in the hallway when the class change started. I ignored them all, only listening in to a few things here and there. I wasn't a student here. What business of it was mine what they discussed. That is, until I heard that it was me a group were discussing close by. It was obviously a group of the more popular girls, standing around a locker. They cast me glances every few moments, whispering to one another.

"He's really cute, Jess! Did you see that little boy he was with earlier?"

"Yea, I heard the kid is his son. He is a looker, that's for sure. Wonder which girl he knocked up?"

"It's sweet that he cares for his kid that much, though."

"Ugh, you two have no taste. I mean, sure, he's hot, but he's a janitor. I mean, total gross out! Only someone who was desperate would do that job, seriously." The one named Jessica said with a fake shudder.

I gritted my teeth as they walked giggling down the hall. Thankfully, away from me. They were right, though. I was desperate for work. I had to support my child after all. I was sickened with myself to realize that their words actually brought upon me a dull melancholy. I was grateful when the crowds thinned and the hallways emptied. It took me another twenty minutes to finish my round of cleaning for this section and when I did, I headed back to check up on Riley. The nurse had gone to the bathroom or something and Riley's cot was empty. Fear shot through me immediately. Where was my son?

~ o ~

Edward was walking slowly back to English, his mind occupied on the hunting trip he and his brothers were taking that afternoon. It was time for them to feed. Jasper had opted to stay home because he was having especial difficulty today. That was why he was so late for school. So here he was, walking into class four hours late, annoyed with life that he'd even had to come at all. That was until he felt a small jerk on his pants leg. Edward frowned at the tug and looked down, expecting to find his pants caught on something but instead found a tiny fist bunched in his clothing. That tiny fist just happened to be attached to a small child. The janitor's child, in fact. His emerald eyes were peaking out from a nest of blonde curls, desperate and pleading.

"Daddy? Daddy please bed. Lady spoon." The small voice wavered uncertainly, tugging on the pants as if to illustrate his point.

Edward was floored. He had no idea what the child was trying to say.

"I'm sorry, but you have to be alittle clearer. Where is your dad?" He tried to ask but the kid just tugged harder, frustrated and tearing up.

"Daddy room! Please? Door go spoon!" The child cried, jumping up and down frantically, a pitiful whimper escaping his throat.

Edward frowned at the strange child before an idea struck him.

"Do you have to go to the bathroom?"

His question received a furious tearful nod. Well…that made no sense, but that was children for you. He took the small hand in his own, momentarily amused that his body temperature didn't seem to bother the child. He rushed the child to the bathroom as quickly as the tiny legs could keep up with him and waited outside the stall while he finished. The little boy gave him a bright smile when he emerged and reached up, standing beneath the sink, looking up at him expectantly.

"Please?"

Edward shook his head lightly and lifted the little thing up so he could wash his hands. They headed out into the hallway, having to stop so the vampire could rebuckle the boy's overalls for him. He was just starting to wonder what he was supposed to do with a toddler when the boy's father came skidding frantically around a corner.

"Riley! Oh heavens, thank God! Why on earth did you leave the office? Do you know how worried sick I was?" The frantic father scolded his sheepish and blushing son.

"He had to go to the bathroom." Edward added helpfully, earning the attention of the teen who had immediately scooped up his offspring.

The janitor was a lithe, attractive sort. He had a slim build which spoke of either hard work or frequent sports, tousled untamable pitch colored hair and bright as gems emerald eyes that seemed only brighter because of his frantic search. He gave a polite smile to the enigma he had been wondering after for a week now.

"I'm Edward Cullen. He found me in the hall. I guess he was looking for you."

The teen nodded.

"I'm Harry Evans. This is Riley. Riley, can you say thank you to Edward?" Harry prompted the child, shaking him lightly to get his attention.

Riley's lips pursed for a moment.

"Please, Edward." He said, smiling brightly when Harry gave him a grin.

"Good enough, squirt." Harry laughed, setting him down and handing him a stuffed rabbit that Riley latched onto happily though the tattered thing had obviously seen better days, "Thank you for helping him. I'm surprised though. Did Riley tell you he had to go to the bathroom?"

Edward wondered at the eager hope in Harry's voice but decided to store the fact away for further analysis.

"No, but he was doing the bathroom dance, so I sort of figured it out for myself." He explained and while the eagerness extinguished from the father's eyes, the hope stayed there.

"Oh well, can't win them all I guess." Harry shrugged, tousling the child's hair.

Curiosity gnawed hard at his brain. He could only catch flashes of Harry's thoughts and they were sad and yet hopeful all at once. He caught something about some sort of treatment before it was swallowed by the dense fog that surrounded the strange boy's mind.

"Does he have some sort of problem?"

Harry looked up at him. He was a full head shorter than Edward and the vampire wondered vaguely if he felt awkward staring up at other people.

"Riley has a condition called Broca's aphasia. It keeps him from being able to use words correctly. He understands them but he just gets all mixed up and it comes out wrong when he tries to speak. We're working on that though, aren't we sweety?"

Riley looked up at his parent with a grin.

" Lady spoon door, Daddy."

Harry nodded, as if he understood what Riley was saying. Well, he had been with him since birth, Edward assumed, so he probably did.

"Did she? Well, I will have to talk to her about that." At Edward's raised eyebrow, he translated, "The nurse took her lunch break and left Riley in the office by himself. He couldn't find anyone when he woke up so he came looking for me."

Edward nodded, intrigued all the more. He was sad to have to leave for class and even sadder when he watched Harry buckle Riley up in a car seat in an old beat up Bronco and drive away that afternoon.

~ o ~

Riley was in the living room playing with Hedwig and his blocks now. I was making dinner in the kitchen. I bite my lip lightly. There wasn't much in the cabinets and I would hav eto make it stretch until next week. Fortunately, there was that age old staple for the perpetually broke, peanut butter. It was fortunate that Riley liked it so much. Hmmm…Peanut butter, more apples, some frozen fish sticks, bread, half a gallon of milk, no sugar, a box of pancake mix (I threw up praise for that one). I could do it. We had been doing it for a month now after all. I settled on the pancakes. I could just make them alittle smaller and take the extras for our lunch tomorrow. That would save the peanut butter for when we would really need it. I sighed. Back in Britain, especially at Hogwarts, there had always been so much. It made me really stop to think about how much my previous school wasted. I had trained myself to live like I had to at the Dursley's once more but this time it was for the sake of my son. My heart wrenched painfully at the thought of Riley's mum. No, I wasn't even going to go there! The thought cause me to slam the box down alittle too hard on the countertop. This was all that bastard Headmaster's fault! It was his fault that I was having to raise my son on the run instead of surrounded by people who would love him, his own mother and grandparents even! Sure, I had been hideously young when Riley came into the world but that didn't mean I didn't want the best for him. I turned the pancakes over on the grill, sprinkling them with alittle cinnamon like Riley liked. I peeked in the refrigerator and grinned triumphantly, seizing the one lone banana that had nearly escaped detection at the bottom of the machine. Riley loved chopped bananas on his pancakes, I thought with a grin, just like his mum.

"Daddy feel cat?" Came the small voice from the doorway.

I turned around, tossing him a grin.

"No, baby. I'm fine. I just thought alittle too hard is all."

Riley stuck his little lip out in thought and walked silently over to his booster seat at the table. It wasn't really akitchen table. More like a small, fold out kitchen niche by the window that we ate at. The apartment was woefully sparse but I would rather have food for my child to eat than a decorated home. I delivered his plate to him with a dramatic bow, causing giggles to erupt from him that made his blonde, almost white, curls bob. As he ate, I sat next to him, fingering one of those curls lightly. Riley kept pushing his hair out of his face while he ate so I eventually pulled it back with a hair tie. He was going to need a haircut soon. His curls were touching the tops of his shoulders now. With a grimace, I realized my hair wasn't in much better shape. In fact, one could almost say it made my hair look more tame now that it had some length to it! I smirked. Maybe having longer hair wasn't so bad after all. Riley scrunched his nose at the feel of his hair being forced back but ignored it and continued eating. Within no time, I was wiping his hands free of banana and pancake bits where I had shown him how to eat the things like a burrito and he had squeezed it a little too hard. I sighed good naturedly, throwing his squealing, giggling form over my shoulder like a sack of potatoes. Bath time.

~ o ~

"Hey Harry. How's the squirt?" Rocco asked as I walked into Night Life.

"Sleeping like a log with the nanny." I shot back good naturedly.

Rocco was great. He was nice and he always made sure that no one was bothering me at the club. After all, I was good looking and we got quite a few drunken lewd patrons in on the weekends. He was the bouncer so it was his job to take care of those types, but he seemed a little protective of me, probably because I was so young. Waiting tables at Night Life was my night job. It paid okay and I had a nice respectful boss who understood that my child had to come first, so it was excused if I was late a few times for Riley's sake. After all, PJ had kids too. I entered the bar with a grin. PJ was counting up the til, getting ready for our rush hour to really hit.

"Hey kid."

"PB and J." I teased.

He chuckled, amused as ever at my nickname for him. PJ was a great boss. He was humorous and fair, pleasant as any could be. I really appreciate that about him.

"Hey, Carmen called out for a trip this weekend. I know it's your day off but do you want to take her hours? I know you could use them with the kid and all…"

My grin brightened. I could definitely use some extra work.

"Ugh, that would be great, PJ, thanks."

"No prob, kid. Say, don't you work at the high school during the day?" I nodded, "Well, if you see any of those kids in here, let me know, alright? We've had a few sneaking in with fake Ids and that's really bad on business, you know? We could be shut down if they thought we were letting minors in here."

"Sure thing. I'll keep an eye out." I promised, taking my apron and tying it on before heading to the back.

"Thanks, Harry."

~ o ~

Harry pulled Riley's yogurt from the fridge, trying to control the shaking in his hands. He cringed away from the cold of the refrigerator, the clammy sweat on his body making him feel as if he had slept in the icebox.

"Daddy? You blanket?" Riley asked from his booster at the kitchen table, sounding uncertain.

"I'm f-fine, baby. Daddy's just a little cold."

Edward, thank Merlin, was on his way over to take Riley for the day. He didn't want his son near him if he was sick. He didn't want to get Riley sick too. He gave the child his breakfast and was just about to turn around for his coffee when his vision swam. Blackness crept into his vision and Harry felt his knees buckle from beneath him. He didn't hear himself hit the floor.

~ o ~

Edward entered the apartment, a frown on his face and worry in his eyes. He could hear Riley crying in the kitchen but he didn't hear Harry. That wasn't right. Harry was always meticulous about caring for Riley's needs immediately and he had never heard the child cry like this. These weren't tears for attention or hurt, these were tears of fear. He rushed into the kitchen where the cries were coming from. There was Riley sitting at the table, his breakfast still in front of him, crying. His eyes were red rimmed and wide. He lifted his arms to Edward, begging to be picked up. The toddler was pointing over by the smoking coffee pot. Edward cursed lightly and rushed over to take the smoldering pot off of the burner, the acrid smoke billowing out around it.

"Daddy, Edward! Daddy off!" The boy cried, nearly hysterical by now.

Where the hell was Harry? When he finally looked over where Riley was pointing, he felt his stomach nearly drop out from the bottom. There was his sweet Harry, lying unconscious on the floor. His features were pale and drawn and he looked as if he had barely slept in ages. He thought that that his heart would surely shatter at the pitiful sight. Edward quickly pulled himself together, picking the fallen father off of the floor. He used his vampiric speed and rushed Harry out to his car, making sure to grab a bag of things for Riley before he carried the toddler out next. The door shut and he sped away. The whole time, Harry never once stirred.

~ o ~

"He's exhausted and under fed. That's really the underlying issue. Once those are sorted, the rest will work itself out." A voice said from somewhere above him.

A softer voice buzzed somewhere above him but he couldn't distinguish words from the jumbled sounds that his fatigued brain made of them. Someone touched his forehead lightly. Where was he? Where was Riley? A familiar weight shifted next to him and he sighed, content at last to know that his child was safe in his arms. He shifted onto his side so he could wrap his arms around his son. When he felt Riley snuggled into him, he finally allowed himself to go back to sleep.

~ o ~

Edward stared at the small figure on the bed, sympathy, fear and anger warring for dominance inside him. How could Harry have been so stupid? How could he have let himself get this bad? How could he have not asked someone for help? He could admit that he felt alittle put out that Harry hadn't asked him, his own boyfriend, for help when he so obviously needed it. He had told him that they were fine! Edward had noticed their sparse living conditions and he had seen the bills for Riley's treatment but he had never imagined…He gripped his hand hard in aggravation. Once Harry was unconscious, the glamours he had kept up to hide how bad off he really was had fallen. It was a pitiful sight. Now Harry was curled tightly around his child, protective even in his sleep. Edward loved that about him. He was so self sacrificing and loving.

"The poor dear…He must have been through the mill. You can see his ribs…" Esme whispered in sadness, brushing a piece of Harry's hair away from his forehead once more.

"I don't think he eats very much. I see him at lunch at school and he gives it all to Riley…"He whispered, the sympathy overtaking his anger.

He knew that Harry was working as hard as he could for Riley. He also knew that he was barely able to pay the bills right now. His boyfriend had explained the situation with the wizarding bank but the only reason he had given for not going back to Britain was that there were high ups looking for him and that they would use magic to track him and take Riley. It sounded a little mob-movie to him but he had accepted what Harry had said as truth.

"His house is pretty empty and they don't have much. Just each other really. Harry tries but Riley has to have this special speech therapy and treatments and it's really expensive. That's why he works two jobs. He isn't even in school." He wasn't sure why he was telling Esme and the silent Carlisle all of this.

Edward had always told himself that if Harry wanted other people to know about his financial situation and their home life, then he would tell them. He always thought that it was his boyfriend's business. But Harry wasn't able to care for himself while he was working so hard and barely eating enough to get by. So Edward had to care for them both now and that meant talking about it with his parents. He supposed that he had seen them as his parents for so long that he though that telling them, maybe they would make it all better like they always did. It was childish but it was true.

"Well that just won't do." Esme said demandingly, her brow fixed in a resolute frown as she turned to her husband.

Carlisle smiled at his wife's candor. She was such a kind person. He looked down at the two children on the bed and sighed. Harry was kind too, just like Esme. He was doing as best as he could so his child could have everything he needed, but he just couldn't do it on his own. He turned to Edward, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder.

"This decision was out of my hands the moment you brought him into your life. This decision is up to you, Edward, just know that whatever you decide, Esme and I will support you. Also know that, should you decide to, we would welcome them both into our family as if they were one of us all along." His father said softly.

Esme beamed and looped her arm around her husband's with adoration, the mischievous gleam in her eyes telling about how exactly she was going to show her gratitude. Edward smiled and kissed both of them on the cheek.

"Thank you. That means a lot to me." Edward said and received a gentle squeeze of the hand on his shoulder before his parents retired to their room for some extra curricular loving.

He turned his attentions to the pair on his bed. Was he prepared to make a family with the two of these beautiful people? Was Harry ready…?


	29. Skin

A/N: Another Necromancer!Harry! I know, I'm just full of them, eh? XD The Prompt word is Skin. No slash in this one.

Disclaimer: Nada!

~~~Skin~~~

He had thought it was all a joke at first. One of the older kids from school having one over on him. He had refused to believe the strange letter that had been dropped into the mail slot like an invitation to a funeral to be truth. At least until they started coming in droves to his relatives' home. He couldn't believe that he could possibly be anything but plain old Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Can-Feel-the-Darkness-and-Looks-Like-The-Walking-Dead. Certainly not a wizard. He had walked down the street, staring at the paper angrily, convinced he couldn't be anything magical. Well, until he passed old Mrs. Figg's house and several of her deceased cats uprooted themselves and playfully rubbed their soil covered bones and shriveled skin over his leg, begging for attention. He actually bent down to pet one- they were kinda cute- and then recoiled when the rotted skin rubbed off on his fingers. It didn't actually bother him, but Aunt Petunia would roll over in her future grave if he came home covered in the flesh of the kittens that were mirror images of the ones on her calendar on the fridge. That being said, he had always had this…gift. An affinity for the dead, one could say. They just seemed to follow him. When he passed the cemetery by the old church, he could feel them whispering to him, begging to be woken. They wanted to obey him. They wanted to be woken. Maybe Hogwarts would be the perfect place to begin to understand it all. Maybe he'd make actual friends… That's why he was now standing in front of a bustling red train carrying a trunk full of spell books and potions ingredients. His black as pitch clothes covered every inch of pale skin and his wispy hair fell to his shoulders, blending in with his clothes. His glasses were almost too round for his face and covered brilliant emerald eyes surrounded by dark bags. He didn't sleep much, preferring to stay up at night and read or walk outside. More often than not his feet found their way to the cemetery where he felt at peace and comfortable. He wondered idly if Hogwarts had a graveyard, letting the shadows caress him lovingly.

He watched the children around him say goodbye to their parents, give them hugs and greet friends enviously. If only he had friends to say goodbye to…or parents. All he had was a pair of mice (not dead mice) that were even now resting at the bottom of the old leather bag pack he had unearthed in the Dursley's attic where he slept. They had offered him the spare bedroom when his letters started to come, addressed to the cupboard under the stairs but the large window kept the room bathed in light that burned his skin and made him sore. He kept Isaac and Armageddon in their plastic little ball so they didn't get crushed. They were the only friends he had. The only living things that didn't seem to cringe at his presence. He sighed and, as quickly as he could, half jogged through the crowded, sun filled platform and heaved his trunk onto the train, his small arms wavering at the weight. He jumped into the last compartment in the train, breathing a sigh of relief at finally being alone and in a quiet space. Crowds made him nervous. He was always afraid that someone would realize what he was, that he could call the forces of darkness in the form of the walking dead. People always either shied away from him or ignored him. He supposed it had something to do with the constant chill that surrounded him and drew the dead to him like moths to a flame. The dead repulsed the living, it seemed.

It would be a lie if he were to say that he wasn't excited about going to a magical school. He wasn't a freak after all! Maybe there would even be people like him there, others that could call the dead. The thought had a bright smile coming to his face as he dug out his two pets. He set them down on the floor in their ball, letting them run around. They had somehow gotten one of the pages of his Charms book and had nibbled it to ruin. He began to read, eager to soak up as much magic as possible on the off chance that they maybe decided there had been a mistake with him and sent him back. Besides, he wanted to learn how to conceal things and how to get rid of the mess his pets made or even make it so it disappeared immediately. The possibilities made his head spin. He brought out his wand, a lovely thing he thought, though it was as delicate and as frail looking as he was. Harry wasn't a built child nor was a he tall. He barely scraped 5'0'' and was thin and waif like for his age. Many had commented to his relatives at how contrary he looked, like some fairy child dropped in the middle of suburbia. If only they knew.

The door to his compartment opened unexpectedly and he turned in surprise to see an unfamiliar red head staring at him. He looked as if he were about to say something and Harry's hopes soared. Maybe he would join him? Maybe he would be his first friend. Someone to share his dark secret with and to have ice-cream in the graveyards that he wandered to at night, or someone that he could tell jokes to or who would shove cake inn his face while they both laughed at birthday parties, who would explore London and prank the old Mrs. Figg near his house- The boy just seemed to flush.

"Er…never mind. Sorry." He stuttered before closing the compartment door anxiously and hurrying off.

Harry's hopes came crashing down and disappointment set in like an old familiar companion. He turned back to his book, trying his best to ignore the wretched feeling of hurt pooling in his chest. The door did not open again.

~ o ~

Outwardly he was calm. Once the train stopped after it's long, quiet ride to Hogwarts, the desperate waiting broken up only by the trolley's rounds, he merely slipped into the throng. Another face among a crowd. Another cow in the herd. Inside, though, he was a bundle of nerves. He tugged on his long sleeves nervously. What if they sent him back? What if he didn't like it here? What if he was eaten by a dragon? So many insane scenarios flashed through his mind that they had him worrying his lip anxiously. He was scared. Scared of a change this big even though it offered him answers, his possible salvation at his fingertips. He'd devoured his school books anxiously and practiced from the moment he sat down on the train to the moment they had stopped. Now though, standing in the throng of students headed towards the lake, a cold fear of another type took him. They were getting in…boats? There was a humongous man, looking more like a grizzly bear of some sort, directing them into the boats. Harry found himself frozen to the spot, staring at the water in abject horror. He had never been fond of water. Not since he was six and had been pulled into a deep pond by a rather persistent poltergeist. The lake was black as obsidian before him and he fought the desperate whimper that tried to crawl up his throat like a zombie crawling after its first meal.. He really hated water.

"Move along!" The man-bear thing yelled and Harry felt himself shoved into a boat from behind by a bulky boy with seemingly less brain cells than a rock and his just as unintelligent companion. A blonde boy got in after them, throwing Harry a smirk. He was frozen, gripping the edge of the boat in terror. There were too many of them in the boat! It was too rickety, it would capsize! He couldn't help but notice that the lake was at least a thousand times deeper than that pond. His vehicle of doom began it's slow journey across the glassy surface, seemingly ignoring the silent pleas of it's sole unwilling passenger.

The two gawking brutes seemed to summon some sort of intelligence about halfway across and, sniggering, began to sway the boat back and forth. Harry cried out in alarm at once. His fragile grip on the side didn't protect him though and, with one particularly violent sway, the rocking motion sent Harry face first into the freezing blackness. The dark crushed in around him and the cold smothered him. The water was in his mouth, in his ears and the terror- the fear!- seized him. He thrashed and began to panic. He was going to die! Something was going to pull him down and he would drown in this cold dark place before he even got inside the grand school! Harry was sure there would be tears on his face if he weren't beneath the water. He was just about to give himself a heart attack from all of the thoughts in his panicked mind when a hand broke through the surface of the water and seized the back of his cloak, hauling him out of the fathomless depths. He was choking on all of the water that he had swallowed and there were sniggers and whispers around him. Probably the other children.

"'Eh there. Yer a'right now. Be dried off in no time at all." A booming voice said from just above his head, startling him when a large hand came down on his thin shoulder, nearly knocking him back into the water.

His eyes cracked open just enough to see the monstrous hulking shape of the man-bear above him. The man took up a whole boat on his own but wrapped Harry in his enormous moleskin coat. The tiny creatures shivered under his cool touch and he immediately found an odd comfort in the feel of dead things surrounding him. He could almost inhale the scent, wrap himself in it like a blanket…He began to feel almost lazy, drunk on the sensation. The gorgeous sight of the castle's many lighted windows, spires and winding turrets barely even broke through the calm that had descended over his mind. What was happening? Harry didn't understand it. Maybe someone here would. Just to be on the safe side though, he reluctantly pulled the coat from his body. Something was strange about what he was feeling. He didn't know what it was, but he wasn't going to let it happen until he knew for sure. The boat slid across the rough sand of the opposite bank and one by one, the first years began to climb out of the boats, full of timid excitement. Harry was only grateful that he was done with it. Who the hell came up with boats as a means for transporting fifty new students? Who ever it was needed to fall into an empty grave and stay there!

The man-bear had them all follow him to the entrance of the castle where he handed off the group to a rather stern woman in a pointed hat. She had wrinkles on her face, but her eyes had lost none of the sharpness. They were filled with knowledge and authority. The other students, aside from noticing his stunt in the lake, didn't seem to notice the strange boy in the back of the crowd. Harry hoped that Isaac and Armageddon were okay on the train. He tried the drying spell he had practiced on the train on himself a few times as they filed into a room to wait. A toad hopped by his foot but he paid it no mind. He was sure he would see stranger things in a school for magic, after all. It took him four tries, but he finally got the spell to work. Harry's chest swelled with pride. His first spell! He couldn't help the grin that came to his face. Now at least he wouldn't look like a drowned rat. A few of the others were talking excitedly about the Sorting. He deduced that it must be how they decided where each student would go. Others were whispering about, left to their own devices until the severe woman returned.

"- I heard he's going to be in our year! Do you think he remembers what You -Know-Who looked like?"

"I'm starved. I hope they plan on feeding us here tonight."

"The ceiling in the Great Hall is enchanted, you know. I read it in Hogwarts: A History." One girl chatted to the two uninterested boys next to her. Harry noticed one of them as the red head that he had seen on the train.

That ball of nervousness was back in his stomach. He chewed his lip, a habit he had picked up in primary school. What if they didn't like him here? He leaned against the wall in the very back of the room, watching everything around him, afraid to miss a single thing. If he missed something, they may decide he was too stupid or he may miss the Sorting if he didn't pay attention! How mortifying that would be! Fortunately, he was spared any other panicky thoughts by the return of the professor.

"Follow me." She said, her voice thick with an Irish accent.

Harry was quickly glad that he was just one person in a crowd for as soon as they stepped through the door, trying in vain for a single file line, they were immediately accosted by the stares of the entire Hogwarts population. He gulped lightly, licking his chapped and worn lips. So many eyes on him…They made his skin itch and crawl just as much as the sun did. They stopped before the professor and a mangled hat sitting on a stool. Hogwarts practically thrummed with magic around him, playing along his senses like a breath across his skin. The sensation raised his hopes for something better once more. He could do this. He had to. He had nothing to go back to should he fail here. The Hat, much to Harry's surprise as well as that of his classmates, opened it's brim and began to sing.

~ o ~

First called was Hannah Abbot. The line began to move slowly and I sighed. Okay, so it wasn't so hard. They just put the hat on their head and it called out the house they would be in. I turned to survey the room inquisitively while McGonagall called for Susan Bones. Each house table was focusing on the Sorting in concentration, waiting to see who would be joining their fold. I couldn't help but wonder where I would take my place. Suppose there wasn't a house that fit me? Did that ever happen? There was Hufflepuff, for the loyal, and Ravenclaw, for the brains. I wouldn't mind being in Ravenclaw. I enjoyed reading more than anything else, although I wasn't particularly studious. I grinned to myself as I imagined them tossing me out cause I didn't make perfect grades. It would be a funny sight really. My gaze fell to the stoic, proud Slytherins next. I shuddered at the thought of being one of them. They were so cold, it seemed. Likely I would be outcasted anyway. I wasn't like them. One only had to have eyes in their head to see it. My reaction was similar with the Gryffindors. I grimaced at their boisterous attitude. I would stick out like a sore thumb there and likely have one killer migraine to boot. Ernie Macmillan joined Hufflepuff and the hat barely even touched the blonde head of who came to be known as Draco Malfoy before sending the smirking little sod off to Slytherin. I sighed, barely paying attention, my gaze drawn to the Head Table and the faces there. When she called my name, I felt a small shock of apprehension shoot through my stomach.

"Harry Potter." She drawled in her kind but stern tone.

Whispers began like a wildfire, spreading throughout the room immediately. At this reaction, I was momentarily glued in place. Everyone was looking around and muttering amongst themselves. Why all of the attention? I didn't understand why my name could bring such a reaction from such a large and expansive crowd. It drew a chill down my spine. I hated attention. I loathed it. I preferred to stay in the shadows with my mice and my books and my corpses. Their eyes seemed to pass right over me, a fact that irked me to no end. Why was I so hard for these wizards to see? I would make them see me one day. They would see me, not the strange, unwanted little odd child that they so carelessly glanced over. When I managed to walk over to the chair and sit down, angry and afraid of this new attention, the room's buzzing nearly halted for a split second. They stared at me like I was an exhibit at the zoo, the professor herself appearing surprised at me. I didn't know why but the confusion in her eyes made me shrink into myself alittle. I couldn't help but feel as if I had disappointed her some how and, even though I didn't even know this woman, it made me feel sick to my stomach. I was aware of my own appearance. I was small, scrawny and weak looking. I looked like a baby bird next to the other first years. I was by far the smallest of the lot.

I heard someone snigger and shot my acidic gaze up. It was the bumbling idiots who had knocked me into that terrifying black lake. Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle. Hot stirrings of anger licked at the inside of my stomach at the sight of their smirking faces. Cruel bullies they were! That's all! By the time the Sorting Hat descended on my head, I was feeling angry and somehow unknowingly ashamed of myself. Why did these things always happen to me? The instant she began to place the hat on my head, the thing began to shriek, writhing as if to get away from her. To get away from…me. My stomach curled in horror, shock and shame. Why did these things keep happening? It jumped out of her hands and began hopping away towards the Head Table for safety.

"Don't make me do it! Albus, don't make me!" It cried, sounding close to having some sort of breakdown.

I didn't know who "Albus" was, but as soon as the Headmaster stood up and took the frazzled and shaking hat into his hands, I could only assume it was the old man's name. He was frowning at me as if I were a most peculiar oddity. The entire student body had alighted in fearful whispers and dark mutterings. I was still sitting dumbstruck on the stool, McGonagall inching slowly away from me, her eyes wary. The Slytherin table was the only one that was not looking at me in horror. Their eyes were interested and brimming with intrigue. The Headmaster was whispering to the Sorting Hat silently. I was cold, shaking and felt sick. I suddenly wasn't sure that being here was worth all of this humiliation. What was I thinking? I had to be here. There was no way I could go back to the Dursleys after seeing this wonderful place. I had to belong here. I couldn't go back to that now. The Headmaster looked over at me, his eyes still in that same deep frown. He waved a hand over the crowd and the whispers fell silent. I knew that it wasn't magic but the man's overwhelming presence that commanded full silence.

"Mr. Potter, please go to the Ravenclaw table." He said calmly, returning the Sorting Hat to the Deputy Headmistress.

The Ravenclaws didn't look very enthused to have him in their house. I sat at the very end of the table, away from everyone, while my house mates were more interested in whispering about the hat's reaction amongst themselves and observing me in silence than watching the rest of the Sorting. They were the curious house after all.

He never noticed the black eyes watching him with barely veiled confusion nor the blue eyes hidden beneath a turban watching him with calculating coldness. It didn't look like he would be finding a friend today.

~ o ~

"But Albus, you can't seriously be considering letting him stay! We don't even know what he is! Judging by the Hat's reaction to just his aura-"

"Yes. The Hat's reaction was rather strange. So many possibilities…"

The door opened but neither of them turned from the pensieve where Dumbledore was depositing his memories of the night

"Necromancer." Came the hissed voice, causing them both to spin around in shock at his words, "The Potter boy is a Necromancer. I don't know how they managed it but they did."

McGonagall was visibly shaking, plopping herself down into the nearest chair. A Necromancer in their school…It was completely unheard of. It couldn't be allowed!

"Are you certain, Severus?" Albus asked, his aged face seeming to slump wearily.

The Potions Master nodded shortly.

"As certain as I am standing before you, Headmaster."

"This cannot be allowed! He could be a danger to the students! Albus!" Minerva demanded heatedly.

He sighed inwardly. Bloody Gryffindors. Always going right into things without thinking them through. Severus rubbed the bridge of his nose lightly, staving off the coming headache.

"Do you forget, Minerva, that Potter is also a student here now? Should we not try to protect ALL of our students? You cannot just abandon one because he has an unfortunate characteristic. If that were so then I suppose we would have four different Hogwarts' instead of just one united school." He said scathingly.

"But he is DARK! Necromancers are the darkest of creatures! Even the Dementors bow to their will! You cannot seriously be considering this!"

"I don't believe Potter even knows what he is. Didn't you see him at the feast? He looked as lost and confused as we did. And should we have tossed out every student that could possibly have become a Death Eater later on? Our attendance would be drastically low if we held ourselves to such ridiculous and prejudicial standards." Severus added calmly, sneering at his coworker.

Dumbledore finished at his pensieve and was pacing slowly and thoughtfully, sucking on a lemon drop as he walked. This continued on for some time while both Heads of House fumed silently at each other. At last he stopped before them, with a grave look on his face.

"I agree with Severus. To turn him away when he needs our attention the most could very well create a new Tom Riddle. It is true that Necromancers are dark creatures, but Harry has a choice. He can chose his own path, whether his powers are dark or light. He has a choice. Severus, can I trust you to keep him safe and watch over him? I think he would relate more to you than any other teacher. Perhaps it's time I gave the Dursleys a call."

The two teachers nodded with matching sighs and left the Headmaster to his brooding. There was no telling what vast thoughts would come to that aged mind in the dead of night. For now, though, Severus banished thoughts of sad, scared emerald eyes and focused on the room full of Slytherins he had to greet into his house.

~ o ~

Harry booked it down the hall, tugging anxiously at his sleeves, making sure he was completely covered. His first class of the day was Care of Magical Creatures. Outside. He gulped, trying to hide his anxiety. The sun peered through the high windows of the hallways, forcing him to pull up his hood in order to keep it's poisonous rays from his flesh. Breakfast was just getting through and the students were pouring into the halls, off to their respective classrooms. He got several sniggers as he ran, and more often than not, more looks of trepidation or people nudging their partners to get them to more over so they wouldn't have to be near him. It hurt, he wasn't afraid to admit. He had wanted a friend more than anything. He stopped short at the front door, double checking his covering once more. He was gathering his courage to step out into those hurtful rays when a hand caught him from behind and pushed him out into the sun.

"Move it along, Potter. We don't have all day." Malfoy laughed at his state of anger, fluster and embarrassment.

When he felt no pain, he sighed in relief. The shove hadn't jogged his coverings out of place. He headed down to where the class was assembled, finding comfort in the shade of a big tree. His classmates' eyes wandered to him with varying reactions to his appearance. Some didn't even bother to keep down their voice or not to outright stare. It was like he was an animal in the zoo.

"Doesn't look like much, does he?"

"Yea, some Boy-Who-Lived."

"He's such a scrawny little thing!"

"I don't think he defeated the Dark Lord, after all. I mean look at him!"

Harry nearly moaned in despair and embarrassment. Maybe if he kept his head down and stayed silent they would pass over him eventually. They would grow bored with their gossiping and move on to the next thing. He just had to stay quiet, calm, and uninteresting. He pulled his magic into himself as tightly as he was able to. It wasn't hard. The cold power that usually seeped from him naturally was sluggish and slow under the bright sun. He could almost feel the rays bearing down on him like some lead weight on his psyche. Halfway through class, he began to get a pounding headache and by the time he stumbled haphazardly back to the castle, it had increased to a full out blinding migraine. Fortunately, he didn't have another incident with his classmates on the way back, just a few sneers as he pushed his large glasses back up his nose in the hallway.

Defense Against the Dark Arts was in a large room on the second floor. As soon as Harry arrived he breathed a sigh of relief. The windows had all been shuttered closed, leaving the room in shadows and the air was cool and crisp. The turbaned man, Professor Quirrell, was facing the board but somehow, Harry felt as if the man was somehow watching him as he took his seat in the most deserted, darkest corner of the room. He shrugged off the feeling. That was impossible after all. The other students filed in after him, cheeks rosy from laughing with friends in the hallways. Harry would always be the first to class, he realized. After all, he didn't have friends to chat up inbetween classes. He watched them resentfully. Why couldn't he be more like them? Why couldn't his cheeks be pink and softly rounded like theirs? Instead, they were sharp and angular and pale as death. Why couldn't he be just a few inches taller? Why couldn't he be…normal? He bit his lip angrily. He wanted so badly to just be normal. Harry pulled his parchment, book and quill out as the professor began to lecture on properties of wands. While he listened though, he doodled pictures of Miss Figg's dead cats on the bottom of his paper. They were cute little things. Maybe he could raise a cat for his very own?

"Mr. P-Potter, w-would you c-care to tell the c-class what type of w-wand you have?"

His head shot up immediately, his cheeks coloring in embarrassment. The professor's blue eyes were staring at him from mere inches away.

"Holly and Phoenix feather, sir."

As soon as the words left his lips, a smell came to him. The students always said that Quirrell smelled of garlic, but Harry had to disagree. To him, Quirrell smelled like death. Toe curling, nerve exploding, spine bowing, ecstasy. He felt his eyes roll back in his head at the scent. It almost felt like the man's aura was wrapping around him, calling to him as surely as he called to the dead. He fought a whimper when the smell retreated, Quirrell crossing the room quickly back to the front. Harry finally managed to open his eyes, his body finally calming even if his mind was frantic with confusion and fear. What was that? Fortunately, none of the other students seemed to notice his strange reaction but none of them seemed to experience the same either. Oh, and Quirrell was staring at him intently from his place at the front of the classroom. He fought the urge to bang his head on his desk. Why couldn't he just be normal?

~ o ~

He booked it double time out of the classroom, trying not to listen to the sniggers of his classmates behind him.

"Scared of the big bad defense teacher, Potter?" One called down the call as he ran. Their voices faded at once when he immediately headed to the dungeons.

No sane Gryffindor would go into snake territory willingly. At least not until the finally moment that they could be late before potions. He sighed after a time, slowing down and breathing in the cool musk air of the dungeons. It was nice down here, he found. Quiet, cool and soothing. Deathly silent in most places. It was almost as if in this place, away from all of the hubbub and commotion of the main floors, he could almost hear whispers. Old whispers from ages long past, all trying to speak to him in that deep stillness. The hallway was abandoned and he couldn't help the relief he felt. It seemed that the easiest way to be content here at Hogwarts would be if he could avoid his schoolmate at all costs.

Harry heaved the heavy door to the potions classroom open and walked in silently. He'd always been able to move as quietly as a wraith, as if nature didn't dare to alert him to it's presence. It was freakish. Just like that time that he had gotten angry at Dudley for tripping him and accidentally made Aunt Petunia's flowers wilt and blacken. He seated himself at the back of the classroom, taking a moment to revel in the cool silence. It was so…perfect. Well, until he looked up and a pair of obsidian black eyes were glaring at him from mere inches away.

"Potter!" He jumped at the harsh bark so close to his ears, "Your class does not start for another half hour. I do not want to see you until then. Get out." Professor Snape hissed darkly.

He immediately spun around, his robes billowing behind him. Apparently he expected Harry to cower and run in fear. Apparently not.

"Oh please, sir! Please let me stay!" Harry begged.

He felt a pang of fear go through him at the torment his classmates would give him if he were to be seen above again. They would take the mickey out of him, that's for sure. Even the Ravenclaws despised him as he had already well learned, but the Gryffindors and Slytherins were by far the worst. He didn't really fit in anywhere he supposed. Snape turned to glare at him, his eyes full of contempt.

"And why, pray tell, would you wish to stay here so badly, Potter? Don't you wish to go frolic above in childish stupidity with the rest of your classmates?"

He shook his head, his long, uncut hair swaying with the movement. His eyes were pleading with the man.

"No, sir. They-…They don't like me. None of them do and they're always…saying things."

"What sort of things?" Snape asked with an eye roll but his orbs were indeed curious as if Harry were a science experiment he were suddenly interested in.

"They say I'm freakish. Unnatural. And…I think they're right. I can do things that no one else can and hear people speaking when I'm all by myself. I like it much better down here. There is no one to judge me or hurt me and it's so quiet." His tone turned from bitter to blissful all in one word and Snape's eyes became full of contempt but his disdain was not aimed towards Harry.

Snape tugged him back down into his chair and sat in the adjacent one. He sighed as if in disbelief that he was actually about to have a, cringe, heart to heart.

"Those children are pathetic, Potter. What you are is neither freakish nor unnatural. If anything, what you are is more natural than they can ever be. Your kind usually prefers the cold and the quiet."

"My kind…?" Harry questioned softly, pulling at his sleeves anxiously.

"The things you can do are just a part of what you are. You're a Necromancer, in fact, one of very very few to ever grace these halls. That is nothing to be ashamed of. It is a gift. Those other silly children will never understand your power. They may hate and fear you but always know that you have something that they do not and it will always make you stand above them. One day, there will be very powerful people competing for your attention and then they will all see who is the worthless one."

He wasn't sure why he was saying all of this. He had meant to give some superficial speech but instead, what came out was actually heartfelt. Weird. Severus supposed that he saw abit of himself in young Potter. He had once been misunderstood and misbegotten because of his own gifts too. Harry's eyes had brightened with wonder. Severus couldn't help but compare them to another pair of emerald eyes that he had once cherished so wholly. He sighed.

"Potter…If you ever need someone to talk to or just a place to get away, if you can prove yourself competent in potion making in the next half hour, then I will allow you to come and assist me in brewing from time to time."

Those seemed to be the key words because Potter's head snapped up to look at him and the hope shining through those eyes somehow made all of the inevitable annoyance to come worth it.


	30. Enemy

A/N: Okay readers! This clip goes along with the previous two Chronicles of Riddick/HP crossover clips I've done for this collection. One clip for each movie ;) This clip is actually a celebratory clip! It commemorates Vin Diesel's signing on for TWO more Riddick movies! :D In the next movie, he's said on his Facey Space that we'll be seeing more of the Elementals as a group so look out world! ;) I don't have a 100 Quills word for this clip yet, just because I haven't found my list of words But here it is!

Disclaimer: I own nottttthhhhiiinnngggg…Except a soft blanket with Harry and Voldemort on it ;)

Fear burrowed deep inside him like an infection, a noxious poison destroying him from the inside out. A cold iron hand gripped him in a vice, throwing him into the vanity in the corner. He hissed furiously though it bit off in a pained whimper. He was feeling his humanity slip away little by little with the pain blossoming in his skull. He was airborne once more, except this time, he landed on something much softer. No, no, no, no…This wasn't happening. This had to be a nightmare or a joke or something! His arm was twisted cruelly behind his back and he cried out in pain at the feeling of his muscle tearing. The man didn't want him to be able to fight back. He wanted him weak…Defenseless. You keep what you kill, after all. And Riddick was…Blood was beginning to coat the side of his face from the wound on his pounding head. Air tickled his bare skin and he slammed his eyes shut, trying to push away and block out what was about to happen.

'Try and enjoy this, Pet. I know I will.'

Riddick slipped in between the open door slowly, his shiv out and prepared to meet any upstart Necromonger that happened to feel he hadn't earned the right to be here. He wasn't going to let some overzealous follower or concubine get the jump on him. The late Lord Marshall's quarters were dark and deep but his silver shined eyes pierced the darkness as if it were day. He could feel his mate close but Harry was like a weak trembling thing in his mind. Their bond was strained and frayed as if something were eating away at it, reduced to a barely there, trembling thing. A whisper of what it once was and that above anything else worried him. It set him on edge and urged his flesh to seek out the Valine and soothe his hurts. A Valine's bond had to be physically reinforced as well as emotionally. The Lord Marshall's words to him during their battle wormed into his soul like a serpent.

'The little Valine is mine!'

It made him shudder on the inside to think about. A small movement in the corner caught his quick attentions and he turned toward it, ready for action should it be an enemy. But it wasn't. Crouched down in the corner, huddled up as if to shield himself was Harry. His young mate's breathing was labored and the scent of sex and blood permeated the air. He could see from the door that Harry was only clothed in a lose t-shirt that was obviously much too big to be his own. The sight of someone else's clothing marking HIS mate, the smell of recent sex, forced an infuriated growl from the Furian. How dare someone touch his mate! The sound must have drawn Harry's attention for the worst because, much to the convict's horror, the lithe form began to tremble and whimper, trying to disappear into the wall as he shrank down into the corner. His magic must be cut off, because the Valine didn't seem able to merge into the shadows like usual.

Riddick bit back his fury as best as he could, closing the door so as not to agitate the already quaking young man in the corner. The air was tense and only became more so as he approached his lost mate. The whimpering had stopped, no doubt because Harry had realized that he wasn't the Lord Marshall who had tormented him. But neither was Harry approaching him like Riddick had expected. He didn't seem eager to see him. Harry was…on guard. The Furyan nearly flinched back at the coming realization: His mate was treating him as if he didn't know him. Emerald eyes observed him from beneath mussed, long dark hair, using his dark tresses like some protective curtain. The orbs observing him were slitted like a cat's, a sure sign that the young Valine was feeling threatened. Riddick slowly put away his shiv, conscious of the eyes following his every move. Harry's body was coiled tightly like a spring. He crouched down in front of the teen slowly, reaching out with the small remainder of their bond in hopes of rekindling awareness in his violated mate.

"Harry…" He only had time to make the small whisper known before he was jumping backwards to dodge the claws aimed for his exposed belly.

Harry snarled in rage, swiping his sharp claws towards the Furyan with a hiss. Riddick's shined eyes narrowed and his inner animal growled at the challenge to his dominance. So the kitten wanted to fight it out, did he? Well, they'd see just who was the dominant here. He ducked another swipe, aiming a swift hit to the feral's ribs but Harry's quick reflexes had him dodging with the skill of an acrobat. Riddick delivered a hit to the smaller form at the same moment that Harry's sharp claws found his back. The pain and the scent of his own blood only made the animal inside the Furyan rise like a tidal wave. He evaded another reaching claw, grabbing the limb like the thin twig it had become. His little kitten had not been taken care of.   
No doubt that bastard Lord Marshall had been more worried about his own needs instead of his unwilling pet's. An enraged growl broke through his lips at the thought of his mate being used in such a way. The convict grabbed the Valine's throat and began to squeeze, ignoring the last unhindered claw scratching deep bloody grooves into his arms and chest. He began to apply pressure, forcing Harry down to the floor with the hand around his neck. He didn't want to knock his mate out, just get him to submit. And submit he did. After a long furious moment, the fight in the Valine simmered and diffused, his small mate, turning his head to offer access to his neck, finally accepting Riddick's claim on him. The man leaned down to stuff his face in the crook of the exposed neck, inhaling the scent that was and could only ever be the mate he adored. But the trial was not over. His claiming was not complete.

Riddick snarled at the white fabric that hid his mate's beloved body from his view, dearly wishing that he could kill that Necro-jackass again. The offending shirt tore like paper beneath his strength and he was bound and determined to erase that foul man's scent with his own. He lifted his mate up on the bed, mindful of his injuries, quite a number not caused by their battle for dominance. How dare anyone touch his mate! Harry was HIS! He ground down on the awakening body beneath him, drawing a gasping purr from those cherry lips. His own body was quickly stirring to life and he was suddenly aware of how long it had been since he had last touched his mate. With the exception of their moment in the caves of Crematoria, it had been a long, unforgiving five years. Years without the soft touch of the Valine he claimed for himself on Hades. He had gone running across the universe to draw the mercs away from the small family he'd left behind, not even thinking about how the separation would affect Harry. He couldn't imagine having to go through those long torturous breeding cycles alone. Had Harry cried out for him? Had he begged the gods to bring him home and relieve his suffering? What was it that Jack had said on Helion Prime?

'Harry did the best he could but eventually, he just broke down…He used to scream at night…'

He could remember how Harry's eyes had flinched when he had strode back into his life on Crematoria, the sight of him a physical pain. Riddick didn't have breeding cycles or mating seasons like the Valine did. He only felt a warmth from Harry's end of the bond, the connection strained and fractured with the time and space between them and fraying when he had to forcefully block it to keep focused on outwitting the mercs on his tail. He hadn't spared a thought to how the strain on their slowly breaking bond would affect Harry. He had been thoughtless…Selfish. But now was his time to make it right. Now he could make it up to his mate with interest.

Harry made an impatient whimper, wrapping his legs around Riddick's waist to urge him closer. It brought into sharp relief the heavy heat building in his belly. How could he refuse his mate's desires? He stripped himself of his clothes, not giving a flying fuck if any of the Necromongers discovered them rutting like rabbits. This was their time and no one else mattered. He entered his gasping mate with a groan of pleasure, moving at the still feral Valine's insistence. They rocked against each other, hands sliding over blood slicked skin. The scratches from their fight were still open and bloody but it only added to the friction between them. Riddick growled at the sudden feeling on dainty little fangs in his shoulder and he lifted Harry up in his strong arms, the Valine still wrapped around him as he continued to move inside him, slamming him up against the wall. Their position against the wall suddenly gave him the opportunity to move even deeper inside his mates body, redoubling Harry's cries and occasional purrs. They found their completion quickly with one last surge inside the small figure, one last thrust inside. Harry shuddered, painting their chests with a spine bowing cry. His lip was swollen from where he had bitten the soft flesh in their mating and Riddick couldn't resist the urge to kiss the hurt away. He settled them both back onto the bed with a slow pant.

It was all starting to clear. The room now smelled of their own coupling, not the violence that the late Lord Marshall had forced on the small figure. He had defeated their enemy and saved the day like some ridiculous storybook hero. But…Harry still stared out at him from feral, slitted cat eyes, his instincts in complete control still. He had his mate back in body…but not in mind, it seemed. He heaved a heavy world weary sigh, sitting on the bed silently. What had been done to his mate to force him into the safety of a feral state? What terrifying things had Harry witnessed to force him to stay this way even after Riddick was back? He brought his tanned hand to cover his eyes wearily, trying to brush away the exhaustion of the past few years. What he wouldn't give to have Harry smiling at him and assuring him it was only going to get better.

'Tomorrow has to be better, Rick! After all, tomorrow today will be in the past and it'll be behind us forever.'

Ahh Harry. Every so often, Harry would, despite being older than Riddick himself, come out with something o delightfully innocent and naïve that even the hardened Furyan had to crack a grin. There was a soft whimper beside him and he turned to look into concerned emerald eyes. Harry nuzzled his arm affectionately before beginning to lick at the exposed wounds on Riddick's arms. It was such a cat-like action that it tore a chuckle from the warrior mate. Harry only paused at the sound for a moment before he resumed his cleaning of the deep bleeding scratches. Blood was quickly collecting on his tongue and face and Riddick would have been a liar if he'd said that the sight did arouse him somewhat. Harry and he had often, with their rather aggressive-races, engaged in biting and scratching during mating. He just shook his head with a soft smile before pulling the Valine in for a searing but tender kiss. Harry would come back to himself. It may not be tonight but he would eventually feel safe enough to come out of his feral state. He tucked his mate under the covers and settled down to rest, Harry curling up against his side.

~ o ~

It was a gentle stirring on the bed that had the Furyan waking from his light doze sometime later. The darkness was still oppressive in the rooms but it was no hindrance for their less than human occupants. Riddick looked around the cold, plain bedroom but couldn't find the source of his disturbance. There were no Necromongers intruding. No enemies to kill and no noise to speak of. Harry shifted at his side and immediately, he became aware of the source. Emerald eyes were staring at him, filled with relief and a clarity that hadn't been there earlier. Buried in those depths too was disgust and a rage that no doubt was because of the last Lord Marshall. He gave his mate a wry grin, running a hand through hair sticky with blood.

"Hey, beautiful…" His voice was thick with the hope that all would be well now with this creature he held so dearly.

Harry grinned and threw his arms around the Furyan, holding him as tightly as he could. He half felt afraid that if he wasn't holding him here, if he let Riddick go, then he would disappear and that cruel man from before would be in his place, hurting him even more than he already had. Harry gripped his mate close, feeling Riddick's arms wind their way around him. The moment couldn't have been better but as is the way of the world, moments like those can never last forever. The door opened without warning and the Air Elemental Aereon stepped inside, a tense and alert Lord Vaako at her side. She had a knowing, wry smile on her wizened face.

"Lord Marshall, I must congratulate you on your new position and extend my apologies. It seems that the Elemental Aether have requested an audience with you…and your mate." She said calm and steady, the opposite of her wavering shifting form, her voice brimming with amusement.

Harry looked up at Riddick with a raised eyebrow and a smirk.

"Lord Marshall, huh?"

The convict sent him a bone deep chilling smile that meant everything and nothing all at once.

"You keep what you kill."


	31. Baby, Don't Cry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lord Voldemort would do anything for tha one he loves.

Disclaimer: I own nothing except an acerbic sense of humor. XD

Chapter 31...Baby, Don't Cry

Voldemort had never really known what it was to be loved. He had never known the warmth of another person's smile, never known forgiveness or the astonishing tingle of relief and pleasure to find a lover still asleep next to him the next morning. He had never cherished someone before to the point of madness if they were lost. Not until Harry Potter had come along. This small frail creature had amazed and befuddled him each day with his kindness and caring heart. Even when he had cursed him and insulted him, Harry merely smiled softly and told him he loved him over and over again until the Dark Lord gave into frustration and left him. He always came back though. Merlin only knows why. He didn't understand why the Potter scion didn't just leave him for someone who would treat him better, who was at least not four times his own age.

As time went on and Harry remained, he found that even though he didn't understand it, he didn't need to. Harry's affection was enough, it didn't need a definition or examination. Everyday, he woke up and looked down into sleepy emerald eyes and an adoring smile and every day, he came to depend on that smile more and more. It was this madness in love that had him watching his beloved pitter around their kitchen with a desperate eye. What if Harry got tired of his curses and anger? What if he decided he wasn't worth all of this effort and time? What if he left. Voldemort would be left with nothing. He would BE nothing. His world had narrowed down to the sight and the smell and sound of this small beauty in his life and if Harry left…The feeling of his heart seizing uncomfortably overtook him. No. He couldn't let that happen. He couldn't let anything take Harry away from him. His lover set a steaming plate of breakfast in front of him with a smile and a kiss to his cheek as if he were a small child. The emerald eyed angel set down in front of him with his own fruit and pancakes, oblivious to the Dark Lord's eyes boring into him from across the table. Something had to be done.

~ o ~

Harry lay asleep, spread out on their bed. He was wearing not but a sheer white night robe and a thin white shirt and blue boxers. He looked so peaceful…so angelic. His black hair haloed around his head. It was longer now, straighter and down to his shoulders. His emerald eyes were closed in sleep. He must have dozed off while waiting for his lover to get back. Voldemort stared down, his eyes filled with agony and desperation. It could never be said that he wasn't a selfish man. He was and this proved it. He couldn't let Harry go. The beauty wasn't immortal like he was. He would eventually, whether it be tomorrow or many years from now, leave him alone. After tonight though, Harry would never leave him. They would be together forever…His love stirred as he approached, finally opening his eyes as Voldemort brushed a strand of hair away from his face. That smile that he cherished so much spread over his face and the Dark Lord felt his heart begin to beat frantically. He had to do this! He couldn't let anything take Harry away!

"I love you…" He whispered and just as a happy but confused expression spread over that beloved face, he plunged the knife he held down into Harry's chest.

There was resistance, the feel of cutting into a thick piece of meat. There was blood too, so much blood. It leapt from the tiny chest as if desperate to escape and rob him of it's owner's love. It quickly began to pool on the bed and coat his hands and robes as he ripped the blade out and kept stabbing. It dressed his hands in it's sticky life, making his hold of the blade precarious and unsure. There was a horrified, shocked expression on Harry's face. Voldemort tried to ignore the look of heartbreak on his lover's face. Didn't Harry understand that he was doing this for him? For them? He watched as the life seeped out of those viridian depths just as surely as crimson stained the bed and his hands. He could feel his own soul piece inside the dying body scream out in horror. All was well though. The Dark Lord retrieved a well worn tome from his pocket, opening it to a page book marked with a strand of familiar black hair tied off with silver ribbon. The pages seemed to absorb the blood greedily, sucking it into their pages just as surely as his diary absorbed ink. The writing on the page was stark and cruel. Arcanum Inferius.

He stared down at his lover's still and cooling body and began to chant.

~ o ~

Severus Snape strode into the Dark Lord's lab, his traditional scowl on his face and in a foul mood. He had been woken late, or rather early, at night by his Lord's call. Something about the brat. It was no secret that he and Potter had never gotten along, but at least now they were on amiable terms. It had taken him some time before he could relinquish his view on the boy being a spoiled wonder boy and come to see him as what he was: the kind lover to the Dark Lord and a decent wizard. The more he was around the boy, the more he realized that the teenager didn't have a speck of James Potter in him. The lab doors opened with a heavy groan and he barely suppressed a shiver at the desolate and eerie atmosphere. The "Lab" wasn't a lab per se, it was a place where the Dark Lord did his experimenting. Torture was more like. It was a place for him to test his new spells and creations where the rest of the manor wouldn't hear his victims screams. It was the one place that Harry had refused to go. It seemed very strange that the boy would have ventured down to this deep, dark place even on his lover's request.

He followed the faint view of candle light through the dark rooms. The man had retreated to the deepest room in it seemed and Severus could hear him whispering something. To Harry? As he got closer, he could make out more of the words.

"Harry, come now love, don't look at me that way. This is for the best, don't you see?"

It didn't seem that the man got a response. Severus entered the room cautiously. It was dark just as the last rooms were but soft candle light flickered across the room from a metal table nearby. Voldemort was standing in front of Harry's slouching form. The teen was staring at the floor as if he were trying to collect himself. Had they fought? His complexion was pale and sickly looking. Was that why he had been called? Was Harry ill? This damp dreary place was the place that he should be if such were the case. His Lord turned around to see him and Severus took in the sight of his blood soaked robes. What in Merlin's name was going on here?

"Severus! Excellent. Look, love. Severus is here now." Voldemort gestured him over calmly, "Severus, come and talk to him. He will respond to you better, I think."

A slow steady sick feeling was building up in his chest and became overpowering as he kneeled in front of the still fifteen year old. Harry's skin was pale and he was wearing what looked to be one of their Lord's robes and some black shorts. It didn't even look as if he was breathing… but that couldn't be, right? Voldemort stood behind him, a cold sentry. A pillar of stone.

"Potter? Harry? Come on, brat, say something." Severus insisted, his hand laid comfortingly on the fabric covered knee.

Slowly, at last, dull emerald eyes raised to meet his own and a glimmer of recognition passed through them. Severus was taken aback at the agony he saw there. What had happened here? Judging by the look in the teen's eyes and the blood soaked man at his back, something terrible.

"Severus…" Came the whispered response.

Harry's form shivered though if it was from cold or horror, he could not say. The shiver bared the robe open just enough for the potion's master to feel the need to look away. This was his Lord's lover after all. Unfortunately something caught his eye before he could turn away fully, something that caused a flare of dawning horror to slowly swell to life in his soul. There, beneath the black of the robe, Harry's chest was a mass of wounds. Of punctures. Knife wounds? His eyes found themselves moving down to the shorts. Next to the black of the robe and in the dim candle light, Severus could make out the red tint and the very edge of the material that stood out a soft blue. The blood on the Dark Lord was making a terrible kind of sense and his mind was coming up with explanations that he didn't think it could bear.

He stood slowly, walking over to the table to lean heavily on the candle strewn surface. Voldemort was whispering to his still lover and Harry seemed to be coming back to himself, looking around slowly and from the looks of it, he was coming to the same conclusions as Severus. Perhaps not the exact same. From Harry's vantage point, he couldn't see what Severus could. On the table lay two inconspicuous items that made the dawning recollection reveal the true tragedy. A book opened to a page reading Arcanum Inferius and a small stone that he had only seen once in his life on the pages of a story book from his youth: the Resurrection Stone. Voldemort must have used it to bring back Harry's soul, shoving it thoughtlessly back into a reanimated body. The Resurrection Stone itself was nothing but a cruelty but to have it used to trap a soul inside a cold shell…It was nothing short of unspeakable. Not in his wildest most depraved imaginings could he have ever imagined doing such a thing. Voldemort helped Harry to shakily stand and regain his bearings slowly.

"My Lord…what happened to Harry?"

The Dark Lord was stroking his lover's head as Harry began to tremble and shake his head, suddenly taking full stock of what had happened to him. Voldemort appeared pleased and content, not at all as if he had just…Severus shoved the thought cruelly away.

"I couldn't let them take him from me. I couldn't let him go."

Harry made a pained moan of disbelief and horror, perhaps even denial before he shoved his lover's hand away and fled the room as if he could run from the very memory of what had been done to him.

~ o ~

A/N: So what'd you guys think?


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